The Coyote Crucible
by A Cat On Your Keyboard
Summary: A story about about four merc friends and their desire to make it big on their own, with their own command. All things canon in this universe are the intellectual property of whoever they belong to. Frankly there's too many to name at this point.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

March 18th, 3025

Continent of Gimli

Suk II

Emily looked at the multitude of blips on her own personal HUD's sensors as they started to slip into range. Several friendly blips were also up there as well, slightly closer. From her _Shadow Hawk's_ "hit pit," as the company had taken to calling them, she could see Clothesline's lance dancing with them.

It seemed to be about a lance of various tanks, along with a lance of light and medium 'mechs. The big guns in the RoughRider garrison haven't had a chance to make their way to Emily's playground yet, as any time they started to mobilize away from the water treatment plants, one of the other groups in the Draconis-hired guerilla forces would maneuver towards a plant, forcing the RoughRiders to fall back and protect them.

This left the smaller, lighter forces around the area more open to probing attacks and, as her own company was attempting to do right now, bait-and-capture type engagements. Given the RoughRider garrison was occupied mainly on the threatened plants, it allowed one or two raiding parties to make a move on the more valuable mining operations throughout the planet. At least until the other RoughRiders battalion and whatever other Lyran reinforcements were likely on their way.

Aerospace sweeps came up negative for the most part, as the type of jungle on Suk II they were patrolling was almost entirely unexplored and heavily canopied. The sweltering heat and abundance of reptilian life, some quite large and toothy, made various forms of thermal scanning not worth the trouble. Most of the defending air assets were engaged in more open, more familiar terrain to the north and east, far far away from Emily's company.

The jungle made for some fairly obvious-looking trailblazing, which the RoughRiders had begun to reference to find the source of it—Emily's coveted bivouac sites. So far, they haven't made any major headway. The "gruesome foursome," as some of the company had begun to nickname Emily and her friends, had laid out too many ambushes in the last few days.

"Are they finding God yet?" Emily asked over the command frequency. She waited patiently in her hole alongside the other three lances nearby, all hoping the fruits of their several-days-of-digging would pay off slightly better than the last ambush attempt. All she could see outside her cockpit right now were a few pinholes of heaven that made their way through the piles of broad, deeply-green leaves that typically covered the jungle floor.

"Not yet," came Clothesline's slightly-annoyed voice, busy multitasking the daily-do's of juking his 'mech through thick, caking mud while being shot at, and having to answer to his boss and friend.

"Hijo de puta!" Came the curse from Salvador Torres, Clothesline's _Jenner-D_ pilot. "Can we go _now_ , boss?"

"No, not yet," Clothesline responded to his lancemate. "Once we take a big hit we'll peel off. Dance for now. Make them want it— _hoo_! That was kinda close."

"I just got PPC'd in the damn shoulder, does that count?" Etrit Hinojosa, with the recent callsign "Ifrit" due to his temper, macho attitude, and the way it just plain sounded good with his first name, was Clothesline's _Valkyrie-QF_ pilot. The last remaining _Valk_ in the company, which probably didn't help his attitude towards survival.

"Affirm. Get back and let us cover you."

"Si!" the friendly blip began closing the distance with Emily's team. The other friendly blips began shaving distance off her sensors, but not much.

"Frogging!" Torres over the comms again, apparently becoming the new center of attention for now.

"Man, I can't to a damn thing this far from them." Lewis Mcintosh, who hadn't been assigned a callsign yet, felt the need to chime in frustration. Mainly because he just had extremely close-in weapons in his _Falcon-4N_ and was obviously feeling a little impotent while his lancemates did most of the shooting at medium-range.

"Start peeling back a little fa— _Otscout_ jumping next to me, light him up!" One of the RoughRider 'mechs, which also included a _Griffin_ , _Wasp_ , and _Locust_ , along with some light and heavy tanks such as a _Maxim_ hover, were mostly keeping together. The _Ottie_ must have gotten a little too big for the pants his 'mech wore, being almost the weight of a medium, and quite mobile, but only had a single medium laser. Now he just surrounded himself.

But it allowed a quick shot on the rear of their _Jenner,_ who had just landed from his own jump and was hardly moving. Which didn't even have enough armor back there to protect against that. It burned through, scoring a piece of the crunchy center of the engine nestled there. Meanwhile, fire from the front, including a few long-range missiles got him in the front, sending him sprawling forward into the dirt. Luckily the momentum didn't send his forward-facing cockpit straight into the ground to be crushed by its own body behind it.

With that, the _Otscout_ immediately jumped away back across the river.

" _Ahhhhuuuuuh_." A brief pause. Heavy breathing. "Gyro gone. I'm fucked. Just go." Torres sounded like he had made peace with a lot of things then and there.

 _They're not as close as I wanted, but we don't have a lot of choice at this point._ _These guys are too good to play around with._ Emily hit the controls necessary to bring her 'mech from a low-power state to full and braced for the first jump of the day. "That's all we're gonna get today! Everyone _out of the pool! Now!"_ What felt like the longest second of her life finally passed as her _Hawk_ moaned to life around her.

"Go go go!" She stomped on the pedals and looked up, as a few extra G's pushed the blood out of her face, and the _Hawk_ came crashing through the carefully-laid work of art above her own pit.

The trap was sprung.


	2. Chapter 1 (Act I)

**Act 1**

 **Chapter 1**

January 7th, 3025

South end of Whitman continent

Hesperus II

Emily Wright looked up from her data pad at the members of her new merc company and gave a disappointed sigh. "This is really all we could find, guys?"

Rhys Kang, one of the four standing in the tent, answered first, while trying to hold back a grin. "We were that green not too long ago, when we came up with this plan." Rhys was big, fairly trim by MechWarrior standards, and bald. Bald as they come. Laser hair removal had been a thing for over a millennium, and yet he insisted on his ritual shave with a straight razor every day or two. Being exceptionally pale for a man of Chinese descent also combined to earn him "Chrome" as a callsign. The other half of the name was up to anyone else's mood at the time.

Most of them were fairly young, in their early to mid-thirties, and had come up with this "plan" to pool their merc money they made to make their own company. The four of them, planning for over half a decade and yet they still haven't come up with a name for it yet.

Pearl Benezekri, the oldest of the group at thirty-six, leaned in over the holotable at their…what could loosely be defined as a TO&E. Pearl wasn't her original name, and she never actually told anybody, but it was legally changed when her hair started turning permanently white at the ripe old age of twenty-four, while still attempting to join the Nagelring Academy. She said it was a genetic trait, but Emily suspected the stress of dropping out of the academy had something to do with it. Didn't make her any less of a pilot, but the Nagelring took no prisoners when it came to graduating standards.

She was also the shortest of the bunch at one hundred sixty cm, which made it easier for her to handle the tiny cockpits of her youth, and even gave her a leg-up when helping maintain her old _Locust_ , being able to help the techs get into tiny places. And having a MechWarrior's extremely fit body didn't exactly hurt morale while doing it, either. And yet, despite all that, her hair was what lead to her having the callsign "Mother Hen," with her _Trebuchet_ able to reach out and help her friends from most distances away. Being the oldest might have had a little something to do with it, though.

Martin Danek was the most sour of the bunch, scratching his short, curly hair on his tall cinnamon frame with disgust. "I mean, we have the 'mechs and kinds of fits we're after, with no exceptions. Light, jump-capable 'mechs in the thirty to thirty-five ton range so it's easier for us to compile our parts for what we're about to attempt to do. And the techs we were hoping to get don't look too terrible, anyway. Hell even the _Urbie_ we picked up can jump a little bit, but I'd be more comfortable keeping it behind guarding the loot."

His brow scrunched between his eyes. "Buuuuuut I'm not really a fan of each of us taking our own lance and splitting up to do guerilla ops without any prior training. I'm still thinking we should start with a simple raid or garrison duty somewhere near the center of the Sphere." The Inner Sphere comprised of thousands of planets colonized in the better part of the last millennium, but still represented a dot on the entire galaxy humanity called home.

The four of them were used to that kind of thing, so it suited them. But adding twelve more 'mechs, with groups of three assigned to each of them…that was something entirely new to them. They've learned the ins and outs of handling logistics from their old bosses, but never actually had to make the calls themselves. The fact that the four of them survived together despite all this made it even more awkward. Everyone silently expected around one to two of them to make it to this table.

Emily squinted playfully at him. "You know that's not our style, Clothesline. Besides, that's the nature of the contracts. We got a decent one that actually pays transport for twelve more 'mechs at once, to where we're going. We'll still need to twist his arm to set us down on-planet with our supplies while passing through, though. "

"Clothesline," was given to Danek when they were on the run from a sizeably larger Capellan garrison. Danek had managed to jump almost right in front of the path of a _Jenner_ , who was already aiming-in on Mother Hen's limping _Otscout at the time_. He landed, albeit a bit off-balance, sticking his _Wolverine's_ right arm out and literally tackling the _Jenner_ as he landed, probably saving himself in the process, too. His tattoo of a tiny _Jenner_ on inside of his right forearm with an X going through it is a tribute to his name. As well as the matching decal on the _Wolvie's_ arm, with a few scratches left in for effect.

"It'll be nice to get out of a cramped brick for a change," Danek replied. " _Unions_ are a little more spacious. Did he say how he was going to fit the other four 'mechs in there? They only hold twelve."

"We'll get the nickel-tour before we jump. The captain of the _Dictator_ that's taking us to the jumpship says he knows that captain, and he's had that ship for a long time, so I imagine he's tinkered with it. _Anyway_ , we're getting off-topic…again. They're waiting for us outside."

"They" consisted of roughly three-dozen people, chattering in a loose group amongst the swampy tents of the lower-elevations on Hesperus II. The rough "camp" situated on South Whitman was almost in the middle-of-nowhere. Not the most ideal place for a temporary recruiting center, but Emily was about to explain the discomfort to them.

"Ten-HOO!" Kang bellowed, though nobody really knew where to fall in, other than "next to the other guy." Nobody had been officially recruited yet, nor had the rank structure explained to them, but most came from a military/merc background, so they got the gist of it. The techs decided silently to fall into a semi-circle around the back, almost completely enveloping the four of them.

Emily stepped forward, displacing herself from her friends temporarily. Her chestnut-brown ponytail bounced side to side against her tanned, lean shoulders as she glanced back and forth between the techs and 'mech jockeys.

"I am Major Emily Wright. Callsign Dirk. We're not big on ceremony, nor are we strict on dumb crap like "where to stand in a formation." We'll let you all sort that out. What we _are_ strict on is getting paid. And we prefer to get paid as much as possible, as often as possible. That's where I got my callsign. We'd rather capture and loot than kill and destroy. I, and the rest of us here," gesturing towards her friends, "We run in some of the most uncomfortable conditions using as little equipment as possible. We're not big on fancy E-war, that's typically too hard to maintain for the types of contracts we've taken together. We're also not so insane that we force ourselves to eat the local plant life to stay alive," That got a chuckle out of almost everybody.

She gestured towards the other three with her datapad and introduced them. "Each of them will be in charge of a lance, including their own medium for fire support. Our 'mechs are currently strapped in a dropship on the way to our first official contract. If one of these three standing with me won't be your direct CO, then you'll be in my lance. We're gonna sort the details later, based on how you fit. When we talked to you over at Maria's," she pointed to the planet's capitol, Maria's Elegy, far over the horizon with the comforts of the city it offered, "we wanted to be sure you could at least make it out here on your own, throw some basic cammo on yourself and your 'mech, and enjoy in this awesome pile of shit we're standing in right now without sinking up to your waist before we even hire you." That got another laugh. 

"The four of us have been with each other for over five years, serving with Bart's Broncos. They specialized in guerilla ops. We were known within that command for getting the biggest bonuses for our missions because we believed in capturing as much as possible, and not blowing every damn paycheck up just because we're sitting on top of miniature suns that power our guns," she continued, referring to the fusion reactors that provided nearly indefinite power to a 'mech. Provided the rest of the parts kept working. "That's how we were able to pool enough to get four whole lances with support personnel between the four of us. We're daaaaaamn good at it, and we're taking contracts that cater to _our_ fighting style.

"Now, as to how the hell we could afford you. The answer's simple. Most of you are cheap." She shrugged, palms out. "There, we said it. _Most_ of you, with an emphasis on most," she swept the loose rectangle of jockeys with one hand, the other on her hip, "are fairly new at riding a 'mech, but a couple of you have seen live-fire before. The kind that goes in both directions." That got some smiles and a laugh from some of more weathered-looking of the bunch, many sporting the _I could care less about your regulations at this point_ haircuts and beards that usually came with that. Leaving out the fact that some of the greener jockeys might have trouble even starting a stubble at this point.

" _Some_ of you," she continued, passing a glance at the trio of young men standing in the middle, looking fit but nonetheless cocky, "are riding a 'mech because you have some deep family pockets, and got yourselves some shiny new toys right off the lot here on Hesperus. That's fine, and it means your hiring price was a bit lower than some others, but if you're only joining us so you can have some cool stories to tell your many girlfriends later, get the hell out. Right now."

An awkward silence held the crowd, but the veterans kept their voices down, despite the wide grins those words earned her. "That being said, we want you in this company to make everyone money. The nature of the contracts we'll be taking, including this one, mean if you're not in this to get rich _and_ come home in one piece, your head's not going to be in the right place when we land. If you come home in one piece, but are still dirt poor, well…you've wasted your time.

"But first," she continued, "we're gonna start work on your almost entire lack of cammo on over half of all of you that came here this morning." Both hands went on her hips in her best attempt at a disapproving mother she could manage while she gave a long whistle at some of the 'mechs surrounding the camp.

A humanoid _Valkyrie_ that decided to use only a large tree as camouflage, standing with its left side towards the camp, as if hiding behind a comm-pole ready to stick its head out to peek. Three " _Fire_ _Javelins_ ," of the lots-of-lasers variety, the right-out-of-the-display-room 'mechs piloted by people with rich parents mentioned earlier, were moderately camouflaged behind some rocks and had some loose shrubbery around the knees. Some vegetation was laid across the arms still locked in the L position. _Perhaps they thought that getting "cammo'd" referred to gathering firewood,_ she thought. _Clearly not enough appreciation was shown for the physical labor behind guerilla warfare. Points for trying at least._

"As you can see, most of you need work, and we'll get you there. With the help of some of our vets. Speaking of which," she turned her head over her shoulder, raising her voice loudly," has anyone seen an _Urbie_ around here?"

Seconds later, the sound of a small fusion reactor powering up startled most of the crowd, especially the techs. Several people crouched low while staying in formation, but most people simply turned towards the sound of mud peeling off of itself about thirty meters away, and the rising mound of large branches and twigs cracking.

From there, an _Urbanmech_ with nothing but a two hundred mm autocannon on its side started to appear as the leaves parted. From a semi-crouched position, just enough of the trash-can-shaped 'mech came above the surface to bring the head and some of its chest into view. Mud continued to slide down the front until it almost obstructed the head from view again. From there, a roar that would attract the attention of some minor deities of the local culture came from beneath the _Urbie_ as it lit it's jump jets and exited the hole, albeit barely, landing behind it and further from the crowd.

"OK to be fair, Nymph, A.K.A. Corporal Ampliia Vakitchev, had a few days head start on you guys. She even dug a little ramp in her hole for her to walk in and out of to talk to you this morning. She'll be joining us as well." Nymph's AC bobbed up and down briefly, as she turned to the side a little bit, like she was waving _HI!_ at everyone. Hard mud and dirt continued to plop off of the legs and the giant autocannon in a rather gross sounding _sccchhhpllpp_ as most of the jockeys were chattering "I remember seeing something shiny over there last night but wasn't really sure. Hah, called it," and so on. Apparently a few c-bills went back and forth for a moment as well.

Emily made a wiggling motion with her hands behind her back with nobody in particular looking, and with a frustrated sigh, fifty c-bills smoothly changed hands from Mother Hen to Dirk based on the reaction of the show.

"OK, OK, I think everyone gets the point now. We expect you to be able to make holes similar to these given the sizes and shapes of our mechs. These are fallback points you will remember by heart, even if you wind up using someone else's hole in the heat of the moment. Expect bigger ones for stashing parts and loot. There will be lots of loot." That brought the attention back towards Emily, mostly smiling when hearing the L-word.

"The terrain here almost matches our next contract, but the gravity will be a tad lighter. Ninety-three percent Terran g's. The climate is about as shitty, so consider this your orientation. Since you all at least made it out here, consider yourselves hired, with the sign-on bonus we talked about." Hooting and hollering and some clapping ensued, and Emily let it run for a little bit, while grinning towards her friends.

"Now, the nature of our contract states 'general guerilla warfare' which means the kinds of targets we'll be going after will change based on the political climate. You're not getting paid to worry about the other seventy-eight pages of this damn thing, but we leave in about two days, and it is a few months travel, so you have enough time to get home tonight and say goodbye to whoever, but meet at the spaceport, sans all the dirt and mud," making a little _eh, what can ya do_ kind of gesture towards Nymph's _Urbie_.

"Questions?"

"Ma'am," a voice called out from in the middle of the tech crowd. "Is this one of those under-the-table kinds of contracts? I thought every unit had to be registered with the MRB or something. You know, to see who's liable for what? I don't know exactly, though. Do we get to know who we're working for and all that?" The Mercenary Review Board acted as an arbitrator between two parties when disagreements over contracts flared up.

"Good question. The answer is I gave them a generic name for ourselves for now, and its subject to change later. Since the nature of our contract is pretty clandestine, the less you know about who hired us or who we actually are, and how strong, and how we can be beaten, the less you can tell anyone if you get caught. We don't like getting caught. If we did, you'd have never met us.

"Also, none of us four ever liked pulling names out of hats, thus any callsign you went by previously is probably going to be changed. What really matters to us now is what happens in our company, in _our_ present and future, not _your_ past." Some nods and looks of various kinds of disappointment of about equal number seemed to circulate the groups. To be fair, not every 'MechWarrior appreciated their given callsign. And not every person was happy with all the decisions they made up till this point.

"Ma'am?" Another voice amongst the jockey section.

"Yes?" She pointed at him.

"So, what's the name of the planet we're headed to, and how long? You said a one-year contract, right?

"Suk II, for a whole year," she replied with a wide grin. A jungle-heavy, mineral-rich planet guaranteed to make any visitor lose several kilos before leaving.

A unified chorus of groans and boos ensued, which would also have attracted the attention of some more _major_ deities of this locale, if there were any.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

March 4th, 3025

Continent of Alshayra

Suk II

Leutnant Colonel Franklin Lapointe looked at his holotable briefly with the seventeen dots descending into low-orbit around the planet under his protection, looking like tiny beehives with fighter support around each one. In a few moments they would begin their flip and deceleration burn, and within an hour or so they will be planet side.

"Any updates from satellites or our scouts?" He looked up across the table to his chief intelligence officer, Hauptmann Harold Abramsen, who bent over it, stroking his salt and pepper goatee. _That job's really doing a number on his hair, too,"_ thought Lapointe.

"Negative. We'll have a few updates in about ten minutes from our fighters. There's simply too many of them landing in too many different directions to safely commit up until about three minutes ago, and by that time they already were dispersed to recon instead of intercept duty." Abramsen scowled. 

"It's obvious they're not doing any type of full-scale invasion by this point, because it's too simple of a job to sweep in on every landing zone with greater forces, one at a time, until they get knocked down to such a low number that it'd be a waste to continue. Their forces are just about everywhere. My gut's going with long-term guerrilla ops, and I doubt most of these dropships, if any, will still be here once they've unloaded." He swept his hand higher above the table, continuing.

"Most of our satellites…well what's left of what's left of the planet's satellites from the last few years of raids can really only keep up with the weather. They took out two of the ones we launched last month on the way down. Either happy circumstance their orbits went into several of their flight paths, or just good luck and having a _really_ big net on the way down."

Between both of them, Lapointe's XO, Hauptmann-Kommandant Steven Dusselhoff, thumped the edge of the table. "We're sending out recon teams to their projected landing areas, but I'm holding off on anything heavy just yet. Each of the major purification plants they're landing closest to has at least a company of our own guarding it, and in the event they compile forces between landing zones like here, and here, we should be fine." he said, pointing around the table near the center of all the combined landing areas which covered several thousand square kilometers.

Lapointe nodded. "We drilled for this kind of thing in between raids last year. Let's emphasize that to our junior commanders and stress that reacting to just one event will make us just chase our tails like a dog. They need to think like our new neighbors think, from their perspective." He looked at his HP again. "How many of these dropships do you think actually have forces in them?"

Abramsen shrugged. "Could be half of them, but I'm willing to bet it's more like four or five. Enough to keep us near the treatment plants for the most part, then one or two dropships of actual raiders to either pillage the Gimli or Dothhill mining facilities. Those got raided two years ago by the Dracs. I'm not sure they're going for a two-game streak. We'll have a better idea when our initial patrols find out what remains at the landing sites. If we see footprints, that's a good sign. If it's a trash dump, well that's one less site to worry about.

The "trash dump" tactic Abramsen was referring to was something many larger-scale commanders enjoyed doing over multi-planet campaigns. If you had some extra C-bills lying around, or were savvy enough during the negotiation process to suggest this to your employer, you could save them some money by asking some of the less-occupied dropship pilots in the area to just gather up as much tonnage as they could find, strap it down inside, and take it with them amongst other dropships with actual military hardware and troops. After you've landed, they dumped what you have on-planet, simulating an actual unload, and helps split up your enemies to deal with ghosts. Not everyone was crazy enough to sign up for that kind of a job, but there were plenty of desperate businesspeople in the Inner Sphere.

Traffic control specialists, spacers, and most people who've seen dropship maneuvers on a regular basis will have to assume, based on your maneuvers that are based on your mass, that you're the real deal, and have to plan/divide forces accordingly. In the case of Suk II, with most satellite coverage knocked out ahead of time and lots of places to hide, this strategy could be particularly effective. Case in point, the planet already had several heaps of broken down salvage laying in piles from previous invaders and raiders that nobody had gotten around to cleaning up yet. One dropship captain decided to leave a half-ton pile of actual crap behind. Either it was just time to get that kind of stuff off your ship, or maybe they had a bad experience with aerospace fighters on the way down and wanted to leave behind a little something special.

"The big boss is still over on Tharkad, hashing out deals that assume that we still have two functioning battalions on this planet when he gets back, and two companies on deployment for three more months. Most guerilla contracts go between one and two years. Given what we talked about, I'd say we're dealing with about two battallions of various kinds of mercs with a Combine liaison of at most…one to two companies, with support. That's including at least one to two lances distributed amongst the mercs as liaisons. Let's focus on defending and keeping our own people alive, as well as the treatment plants, major cities, and industry. I'd rather not go on seventeen simultaneous witch hunts. We'll find them. Eventually." By then, Hansen and the rest of the Roughriders would be back. Nods across the table seemed to put the next few weeks into perspective.

Dusselhoff stood straight, with his hands behind his back holding his famous riding crop he enjoyed using as a pointer on holotables. "Everyone recalled from leave is back and ready, with two AWOL exceptions. Their 'mechs are in pretty deep repair, so those two weren't expecting to see action anyway. We'll deal with them later. Got a preference on which continent you want to start searching for landing sites?" he asked with a smile.

"Let's start down south, along the equator. With Gimli."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

March 8th, 3025

Continent of Gimli  
Suk II

The pinging sound of machine-gun fire deflecting across the reinforced glass cockpit of Emily's _Shadow Hawk 2D_ brought her attention from the map she was briefly daydreaming about, back to sweaty reality. Each spark created tiny suns in her vision through the almost pitch-black night. Fortunately, the glass held without a problem, this time.

 _Well shit,_ she thought. _Shit! How'd they find us so goddamn fast?_

After arriving on-planet on one of the main continents, her lance had run into a RoughRider patrol trying to scour the some of this thick jungle she and her company had begun to set up caches of supplies in. That patrol became two, but fortunately it was mainly lighter tanks of the hovering variety. Given there were several companies worth of hardware on this planet, and a decent number of infantry, aerospace, and dropships, the odds of them being discovered this quickly seemed unlikely at best.

Her lance, simply consisting of a _Valkyrie_ and a _Spider_ for now, was already starting to loop around to the northwest. She opted to put Nymph's _Urbie_ in her lance, and left it behind for bivouc security. Nymph had protested, but knew it was the right call. It was just too slow, usually.

The night was cooler—cooler by comparison to the almost constant forty-plus degrees Celsius during the day - and they were in a small clearing with the two lances of hover tanks blocking their serpentine route back to their bivouac site.

"Vi, Maiden, break left and circle around. I'll go the other way and split them up." _Maybe split them up, anyway, she thought quickly._ "Vi try to draw as much fire as you can but don't shoot back if it means you'll get hit yourself. Stay safe for now!" Two _ayes_ came in response.

Vi-Linlet Chandran's _Spider_ , which ironically looked nothing like it's namesake, was already starting to show early problems with the flamer in its right arm since making planetfall. It started picking up speed ahead of Maiden's _Valk_. The slightly-lighter-than-Hesperus gravity of point-nine-three g's made it a little easier to get a stride in this clearing.

Emily angled her _Shadow Hawk_ 's torso parallel to them and fired some potshots from her fifty mm autocannon 5 and five-tube long-range missile launcher toward the cluster of hovercraft moving cautiously toward them in the night. She wanted them constantly changing their target back and forth between her and her team, while they made their way around to regroup with her people.

A stroke of good luck came through, and though the missiles splintered trees behind the group, the autocannon's shot happened to clip a _Harasser_ hover tank, going right through the left side into the engine. The tank reeled to the side from the hit, bumping another _Harasser_ , then lost power and hit the dirt like a china plate, sending more pieces of it's skirting into the open.

 _Awwyusssss haaaa_ she silently cheered to herself through her teeth, throttling up to a modest forty km trot. The responding fire came mostly in the form of missiles hitting greenery where her weapons flashes originally came from.

"Dirk, I think they like me more than you…" came the nervous voice of Vi, who's silhouette could be seen occasionally amongst the lasers cutting through some of the steam of the night. Tiny flecks of dark reptiles running, flying, or hopping for their lives made them seem like ghostly insects from Emily's viewpoint.

"Keep going. Jump if you have to. We have the room."

"Roger." Another laser shot ends up just behind her, making a tiny rainbow shape in the tree on the other side.

Maiden's _Valk_ was starting to pass the hover tanks as well, now. Emily silently approved of showing no bravado, resisting the temptation to get a little slap or punch or even a lucky kick on any of the half-dozen-or-more more concerned with Vi at the moment.

"Shit! _Saladin,_ boss lady!"A hover tank that qualifies as a 'mech-killer, one of the most popular variants sported a single AC20 that could end any light 'mech pilot's career in a single shot. Emily wasn't sure which one this had, but she always assumed the 'twenty. Her _Hawk_ was a little too far on the other side of the tanks to use her shorter-range lasers missiles, but she fired some LRMS in that general direction, unable to get any locks on in time.

Nothing hit, but it seemed to spook the _Saladin_ gunner, because—as hoped—a massive belch of fire came from the front as a single AC20 round split a tree in half near Vi.

" _Run_!" Emily shouted while alternating on the foot pedals to get more speed. She was just too far to do much at this point.

Vi attempted to give a nudge with her _Spider's_ shin towards the _Saladin_ but wound up missing. She stumbled for a split second, then regained her original speed. The tanks were behind her now by a few hundred meters, with Maiden starting to gain ground as well.

More fire erupted from the main group, with their attention on Maiden. _Shit! Shoot me, you fuckers!_ Emily clenched her jaw and fired another round from her autocannon, trying to get more of their attention.

" _Mongoose_!" Came the panicked voice of Maiden. "Bearing zero-seven-zero, closing in!" _So, the last member of this double-lance has entered and signed in. I guess this is their boss. Any more surprises tonight?_ Emily thought _._ A _Mongoose_ was designed for hide-and-seek missions, primarily as the one doing the seeking. At a mere twenty-five tons, it specialized in command and control more than anything, but it still had a group of medium lasers to offer as party favors. But against other light 'mechs like a _Valkyrie_ , who's armor was about as thin as the holoscreen that listed it on her TO&E, it was a big problem.

Meanwhile, a few lucky missiles caught the back shoulder of Maiden, sending her forward momentum into a bit of a stumble and she lost a lot of speed trying to regain her balance. Vi was too far ahead to do anything against eight of them, and Emily wasn't in range with much, so all she could do is watch while the _Mongoose_ landed a shot in the back of Maiden's other shoulder, igniting the LRM ammo stored in there.

The chain reaction only lasted about an eighth of a second, but within that time, dozens of missiles combined from within to literally split what was left of the _Valkyrie_ in two, sending most of it from moving forward to almost a standstill as the kinetic energy simply cancelled out most of the 'mech's momentum. The auto-ejection system also worked equally as quickly, sensing the rapid amount of damage and orientation change and decided _now would be a good time to do what I was programmed to do, mmhmm, yep._

Unfortunately, the forward angle prior to the explosion had Maiden's torso angled downwards, towards a massive trunk of a tree that shot up to the canopy…

...and the ejection pod went straight into it. A small secondary explosion created a dot in Emily's vision where the tree had taken the hit, and any remaining fuel in the escape pod quickly went _poof_ , then went dark. The tree seemed slightly peeved, either at the loss of life or small chip of itself knocked off.

Emily had seen death before, but never to someone she knew for more than a few days, and certainly nobody under her command. It hadn't sunk in yet, there was no way she could worry about it when multiple turrets swung in her direction on her HUD. They were almost in range of her with everything they had, and she was _much_ slower than either of her lancemates. Lancemate.

"Vi…I might need your help now."

"Roger th-oh Kerensky was that _Maiden_?!"

" _Focus_ , Vi!"

"R-Right! I'll try to keep the _Mongoose_ busy, just stay away from the tanks!"

Those two 'mechs could dance for a while, if the tanks weren't providing so much fire support. They only needed about two more minutes before some of their own help would arrive. _Could my_ Hawk _take that much of a pounding from so many little guys for so long,_ she wondered. The quick math in her head didn't agree with that.

 _Didn't wanna do this tactic so early in the war_ …she started frogging, which consisted of multiple varying hops with her jump jets to mess up enemy targeting and their ability to lead her. She slammed both feet on the pedals and braced for her stomach to do somersaults over and over and she lept, slammed the semi-soft mud and took at little of it with her on the next jump. And the next. And the _next._ The heat in her cockpit combined with the desire to puke into her neurohelmet's viewscreen made her dry heave, but she was rewarded as tracers, missile flashes and lasers went flying past her HUD, bound for a few unlucky trees and whatever small reptile life was dumb enough to stick around at this point.

"Vi _-oooagghhh_ " Emily involuntarily made a guttural sound at the height of her next jump, as fifty-five tons of _Hawk_ made small golden rainbows of afterglow of the vision of anyone still chasing her at this point. " _Vi._ You ok?" She said as she hit the ground right when saying her name, causing the word to come out a little too forcefully.

" _Mongoose_ still on me. Neither of us can really hit each other. I'm not too far from you." Vi sounded like she was holding back tears.

"Help's coming soon. One minute or so?" Emily's response sounded more like a question with how uncertain she sounded. "Frog if you have to."

She switched to her company frequency, while giving her stomach a break by breaking the Hawk back into a run. Many tracers went well above her head this time, anticipating another jump. So instead of a rapid roller coaster ride, she settled for being strapped to an angry bull trying to shake her off. Still, an improvement, considering the circumstances.

A quick check of various distances on her HUD showed two 'mechs, one good and one bad, within a few hundred meters to her left, with six angry blips a little further back than they were last time she checked. _C'mon…C'MON!_

One blip almost immediately faded out as it must have crashed into something while chasing.

Remembering the command freq, she put some effort into her dried-out voice. "Dirk here. ETA on backup? We lost Maiden. Outnumbered about three-to-one. Skippers plus _Mongoose_."

"Chrome Lance is 30 out."

"Clothesline…Lance…almost in LURM Range."

"Flock sending LUR—" a loud burst of static as her _Trebuchet_ launched thirty LRM's almost simultaneously.

A low roar that made the ears ring for anyone or anything outside a sealed cockpit as the volley ripped across the distance separating Emily and Vi from temporary freedom, and the left side of Emily's cockpit streaked with a bright flash as most of them found their mark on two "skippers." One was a _Pegasus,_ the other being the _Saladin_.

The assault hover took the worst of it, kinetic energy hitting its forward right side so rapidly that it went into a clockwise spin for a couple of seconds. Moving back away from its comrades, it ramped up over a gigantic tree root, sending it into a slow end-over-end flip until the gunner either panicked or simply was slammed _into_ the trigger for the AC20, which was aimed straight up. A massive push sent the hover tank butt-first into the mud at over one hundred kph. Whiplash at that speed was typically lethal. The tank's fans slowed lifelessly to a halt as it settled into the ground.

The _Pegasus,_ being much lighter by design and simply less-armored, was battered ruthlessly by about a dozen remaining missiles. One must have broken the driver's viewscreen, because it too lost velocity from its fans and landed on the ground roughly.

All the remaining tanks immediately halted, including the _Mongoose,_ seeing such instant devastation and the arrival of a lot more firepower than they can handle, while also becoming outnumbered themselves. Emily punched her company frequency again. "Everyone, searchlights on! Blind whoever's not using thermals!" Within seconds the horizon around the Lyran-hired patrol went white.

Fighting the urge to throw up again, Emily went to a more public frequency. "RoughRiders! You took the bait. Stand down now or lose everyone you have left." A half-truth. She had no idea if they had any more reinforcements but decided to make the bluff.

After a few tense moments, while everyone seemed to slow to a dead stop, including Emily's cavalry, the pilot of the _Mongoose_ came over the same channel. A disgruntled, older male voice crackled through his own dry throat and some light static. "Fine. Ares Conventions. Hurt anyone in my command and Hansen will probably just nuke this whole jungle." _Did he have access to those here?_ Emily wondered. She turned her 'mech back towards the remains of the _Valkyrie_ over a kilometer away, and the tiny orange dot of the smoldering remains of Maiden.

"Clothesline, take over for a minute," she said over the command freq, then shut it all off and let the tears come. They washed away the sweat on her cheeks, at least for a minute.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

March 12th

McGinty's Diner, Kevilston

Suk II 

The diner was packed for lunch, the majority of people on their way back north to the big city of Mach 'Beh after a nice little warm vacation to round out their winter. The bell on the door continued to jingle periodically. _Why the seven hells was there a bell on a diner door?_ thought Harvey, or at least Harvey Crenshaw for the next week or so, anyway. _I'm taking it off when I leave._ A long pause. _Naaaaaah. But I'm never having a meeting_ here _ever again._

His guest meeting him for lunch was his Draconis contact. He came in with a camera case over his shoulder and the most nondescript, average-looking outfit any "tourist" would ever be caught wearing. Almost brown drab everything, smudged with dried mud and chlorophyll. He smiled at Harvey and sat across from him. The "old friends showing each other their recent adventures" routine began to kick in as he showed Harvey the pictures on his camera. Lots of landscapes, rivers, and various large lizards, including the unofficial planetary mascot, "Jinxy," who was said to bring bad luck if you got too close to one.

With a big, roundish head, big eyes, webbed toes, scales that changed color, and being almost the exact size to make huggable, soft and squishy replicas for the kids, the old fable quickly lost the battle with commercialism, and almost every kid had some random color of Jinxy in their bedroom. Easily fifty million bedrooms across the planet had a Jinxy for "good luck." And because it was cute.

"My niece has a blue one. Dark blue. You saw one in the wild?" He looked more intensely at the picture, paying particular attention to the bottom left corner of the frame, where the date and time the picture was taken would be displayed. It typically blended in with the photo until it was printed with nothing there at all.

Except this date was way out of order. The other dates were early in February (actual photos taken for real authenticity) but this one said April 20th of this year.

The date the revolt was set to begin. After the election, in which House Member Orsula Alvarez lost by a narrow margin in her bid for Prime Minister (or Planetary Minister as they like to call it on Suk), she acted on longer-standing backup plans with local superpowers in a bid to hand them the planet via civil unrest and dissention. The Draconis Combine had a few people willing to take that several steps further, but it generally happened under the table until they could potentially gift-wrap the planet to hand to their masters for their own personal gain.

"You can go down there. They won't come at you. Just bring looooots of water. I must have lost two or three kilos in water weight down there." The conversation then droned on about family, the next "big score" of pictures for Interstellar Imaging, and so on. _Drac agents will hit water plants before the 29th._ Most of the fresh water not already being consumed by the civilians in and around the capitol was further out, in the mountains to the west of the mining districts, so there would be shortages.

Civil unrest. Minor panic. Nothing major, just enough to start polarizing them against whoever was "responsible" at the time. Frankly the PM had almost nothing to do with the way the water was cleaned and distributed around here, but when a mob wants someone to hang, they usually go for the person with the highest-ranking neck.

And hanging was still a thing on this planet. It was a hotbed of culture clashes, with people looking to get into the political game on the ground-level waging their own personal wars of style, fashion, and art.

"My dropship is due tomorrow, so I've got to get into town to get in line at the spaceport," said nondescript tourist number two hundred seventeen. "I'll have to settle for next time." He stood and patted the Combine agent on the shoulder. "I missed you! We'll have to see each other again. My best to your daughter, Saloru," he said over his shoulder, walking out. An anagram for Orsula. Harvey finished his tea, paid his bill, and walked out the jingly diner door. And drove to the capitol to pass the news.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

March 18, 3025

Continent of Gimli

Suk II

Emily looked at the multitude of blips on her own personal HUD's sensors as they started to slip into range. Several friendly blips were also up there as well, slightly closer. From her _Shadow Hawk's_ "hit pit," as the company had taken to calling them, she could see Clothesline's lance dancing with them.

It seemed to be about a lance of various tanks, along with a lance of light and medium 'mechs. The big guns in the RoughRider garrison haven't had a chance to make their way to Emily's playground yet, as any time they started to mobilize away from the water treatment plants, one of the other groups in the Draconis-hired guerilla forces would maneuver towards a plant, forcing the RoughRiders to fall back and protect them.

This left the smaller, lighter forces around the area more open to probing attacks and, as her own company was attempting to do right now, bait-and-capture type engagements. Given the RoughRider garrison was occupied mainly on the threatened plants, it allowed one or two raiding parties to make a move on the more valuable mining operations throughout the planet. At least until the other RoughRiders battalion and whatever other Lyran reinforcements were likely on their way.

Aerospace sweeps came up negative for the most part, as the type of jungle on Suk II they were patrolling was almost entirely unexplored and heavily canopied. The sweltering heat and abundance of reptilian life, some quite large and toothy, made various forms of thermal scanning hopeless. Most of the defending air assets were engaged in more open, more familiar terrain to the north and east, far far away from Emily's company.

The jungle made for some fairly obvious-looking trailblazing, which the RoughRiders had begun to reference to find the source of it—Emily's coveted bivouac sites. So far, they haven't made any major headway. The "gruesome foursome," as some of the company had begun to nickname Emily and her friends, had laid out too many ambushes in the last few days.

As long as the water treatment plants spread across Gimli and other continents of the planet were threatened, they had to be protected, or over a half of the planet's one billion people didn't have drinkable water. A native form of algae made fifty-nine percent of the water fresh water undrinkable, even against boiling as it withstood temperatures of over one hundred twenty degrees Celsius.

It had to be treated artificially, though there were unconfirmed rumors of a few months of a reserve stashed somewhere circulated throughout the planet's people. It was a hot, sweaty planet for the most part, and a _big_ population boom several decades ago still hadn't quite caught up. Periodic Combine raids like this one made it hard to keep all the existing plants up and running on a regular basis.

"Are they finding God yet?" Emily asked over the command frequency. She waited patiently in her hole alongside the other three lances nearby, all hoping the fruits of their several-days-of-digging would pay off slightly better than the last ambush attempt. All she could see outside her cockpit right now were a few pinholes of heaven that made their way through the piles of broad, deeply-green leaves that typically covered the jungle floor.

"Not yet," came Clothesline's slightly-annoyed voice, busy multitasking the daily-do's of juking his 'mech through thick, caking mud while being shot at, and having to answer to his boss and friend.

"Hijo de puta!" Came the curse from Salvador Torres, Clothesline's _Jenner-D_ pilot. "Can we go _now_ , boss?" 

"No, not yet," Clothesline responded to his lancemate. "Once we take a big hit we'll peel off. Dance for now. Make them want it— _hoo_! That was kinda close."

"I just got PPC'd in the damn shoulder, does that count?" Etrit Hinojosa, with the recent callsign "Ifrit" due to his temper, macho attitude, and the way it just plain sounded good with his first name, was Clothesline's _Valkyrie-QF_ pilot. The last remaining _Valk_ in the company, which probably didn't help his attitude towards survival. 

"Affirm. Get back and let us cover you." 

"Si!" the friendly blip began closing the distance with Emily's team. The other friendly blips began shaving distance off her sensors, but not much.

"Frogging!" Torres over the comms again, apparently becoming the new center of attention for now. 

"Man, I can't to a damn thing this far from them." Lewis Mcintosh, feeling the need to chime in frustration, primarily just had extremely close-in weapons in his _Falcon-4N_ and was obviously feeling a little impotent while his lancemates did most of the shooting at medium-range.

"Start peeling back a little fa— _Otscout_ jumping next to me, light him up!" One of the RoughRider 'mechs, which also included a _Griffin_ , _Wasp_ , and _Locust_ , along with some light and heavy tanks such as a _Maxim_ hover, were mostly keeping together. The _Ottie_ must have gotten a little too big for the pants his 'mech wore, being almost the weight of a medium, and quite mobile, but only had a single medium laser. Now he just surrounded himself.

But it allowed a quick shot on the rear of their _Jenner,_ who had just landed from his own jump and was hardly moving. Which didn't even have enough armor back there to protect against that. It burned through, scoring a piece of the crunchy center of the engine nestled there. Meanwhile, fire from the front, including a few long-range missiles got him in the front, sending him sprawling forward into the dirt. Luckily the momentum didn't send his forward-facing cockpit straight into the ground to be crushed by its own body behind it.

With that, the _Otscout_ immediately jumped away back across the river.

" _Ahhhhuuuuuh_." A brief pause. Heavy breathing. "Gyro gone. I'm fucked. Just go." Torres sounded like he had made peace with a lot of things then and there.

 _They're not as close as I wanted, but we don't have a lot of choice at this point._ _These guys are too good to play around with._ Emily hit the controls necessary to bring her 'mech from a low-power state to full and braced for the first jump of the day. "That's all we're gonna get today! Everyone _out of the pool! Now!"_ What felt like the longest second of her life finally passed as her _Hawk_ moaned to life around her.

"Go go go!" She stamped on the pedals and looked up, as a few extra G's pushed the blood out of her face, and the _Hawk_ came crashing through the carefully-laid work of art above her own pit. Several large leaves and vines came with her, across her shoulders and, until the top of her arc sent her back to the planet, a large leaf had completely covered her viewscreen, taking away some of the thrill of suddenly bursting out into the daylight.

As the Archon-sized blanket lost its grip and flew away, the view below her was gorgeous. Her brain seemed to make this second of her life last even longer than the last one. Endless rolling green of the various sizes of canopy trees created its own form of hills from this height. It seemed to go on forever, finally running into the sharply jutting Mt. Gimli on the eastern horizon. The trees a few hundred meters in front of her seemed to quake as various forms of human destruction made them shiver and shake. Then the moment passed, and she tasted her breakfast again in the back of her throat as the _Hawk_ made its descent. A random autocannon tracer ricocheted off a tree and went sailing on a lonely and brief journey to claim its title as "highest human made thing in this area for the day."

As she hit the ground, she saw many of her company had already landed and broken into a run. The three _Fire Javelins_ began to take up real estate on her HUD to her left, all part of Chrome's lance. They'd been waiting to make an entrance like this for this for _months_ and hopefully they didn't trip over themselves to get there.

A _Firebee-2E_ crept ahead from her left, zigzagging around smaller trees and doing some impressive parkour over the large roots of the forest floor for a 'mech that wasn't known for having the best "leg strength" in the business.

"I'm climbing out. No ejecting for me. Have fun guys!" Torres' increasingly happy voice over the line as the distance between reinforcements and the two lances that took him down shrank rapidly. His breathing was heavy, and his ribs were likely bruised or even broken from the landing. Emily caught the trace sound of clips coming undone and a small thud of boots hitting parts of the cockpit not built for boots. "Oh. They're starting to run. Dibs on the _Griffin_ if we get it." And the line cut out.

 _"Finally!"_ McIntosh sounded like he had a child or something with the excitement in his voice. "Got a hit on the _Locust_."

"No more falling back. They didn't cross the river. Overtake 'em. Don't let 'em run!" Clothesline was _angry_ that his lancemate was down and they probably weren't going to capture them all since there was almost nothing slowing them down except the river, which they never crossed.

"C'mon mud, do your stuff," said Emily through her teeth, shifting her weight as her _Hawk_ tried to buck her out of her command couch at a full run. The sun poked itself through her viewscreen a few times every second, like an ancient LosTech pulse laser that was just reaching a little too far. She was silently grateful they used a stolen _Pegasus_ from the last fight to blow-dry the ground they were currently running on to ensure they wouldn't get stuck themselves.

"I gotta go, almost lost half my 'mech to that PPC again. These guys can _shoot_!" Ifrit over comms again.

"McIntosh chasing!"

The blips finally started to turn into actual silhouettes on Emily's HUD as she began to clear the final trees between them. A wide, but shallow river ran across, all the local aquatic life having vacated the area. She went for another taste at her morning meal and stamped the pedals again, hoping there was enough of a running start to get her across in one jump. 

The RoughRider vehicles, surprisingly mostly tracked instead of hovers this time, were still near the river, providing cover to the 'mechs who were scattered across the entire length of Emily's viewscreen as she rose and fell onto the far edge of the river, not quite clearing it. Her 'mech's heat dipped slightly at the nice cool bath around her feet but began to get a lot of attention from the RoughRiders as her front arms and chest became riddled with various forms of projectiles and missiles for a moment.

To her left, she spotted the enemy _Griffin_ currently standing still, firing frantically with its PPC. _Stuck in the mud?_ _Pleeeease be stuck in the mud please please please_ she chanted to herself while taking a swing at a nearby _Locust_ and missing. The taunting fire from its machine guns was one of the most embarrassing things a 'mech pilot could ever experience. _Ha ha, can't catch me_ the bird-legged twenty-tonner pilot was no doubt saying.

However, crossfire has a way of taking care of that lateral motion problem. Several from her company, including her two _Firebee-2E_ 's in Mother Hen's lance saw the one who signs all the paychecks get attacked, and opened from different directions on the dancing _Locust_. A combined total of ten SRM's raced after it, as well as two large lasers.

One laser briefly caught the right leg mid-stride, and one of the missiles happened to land near it, blowing the rear-angled knee apart and sending the _Locust_ into a forward flip, landing upside-down on the riverside, somersaulting with its one good leg until it alsoslammed forward into the silt, getting trapped there.

The pilot, likely dazed, got a nice view of a morning sky while the fight continued around them.

Everyone was practically in the river or across it already from Emily's company, and the tanks looked to be overtaken already. The _Locust_ closest to her, one of two _—two?_ "Count five 'mechs now. Don't chase them too far, there might be more coming," chimed in Clothesline almost reading her mind at the same time. He sounded a lot more nervous than a few seconds ago, suddenly worried more about self-preservation than a big score.

"Mother Hen here. LURMS away on the _Wasp_. He's stuck next to the _Griffin_." A distant roar, and within seconds the _Wasp_ pilot ejected before the missiles even hit.The escape pod became the second-highest soaring man-made object of the day. The missiles shoved the _Wasp_ over like a tidal wave of small explosions and kinetic power. Without a pilot and computer in synch to provide commands to keep it stable, it was pushed over on its back, with one leg forced free by the momentum, the other remaining stuck in place. What was left of the left arm broke off next to it on impact. More than half of the missiles went over it, etching various forms of _Hen was here_ into the local vegetation.

Emily switched to her lance frequency while her 'mech picked up speed again and splashed its way out of the shallow water. "Vi, get that pod! I want prisoners!"

"Roger," came the _Spider_ pilot, who broke off ahead of her to go chase the parachute's trajectory.

To Emily's right, the _Fire Javelin_ brothers were taking turns kicking a tracked _Vedette_ tank until the top hatch popped open with hands sticking straight up.

Straight ahead, she saw the other _Locust,_ the _Otscout_ that made the hail mary jump to gut her _Jenner_ , and the only hover tank going at a mad sprint to the east, trying to cover its comrades. She sent a shot from her AC5 at the _Locust_ , hoping for a lucky leg hit, but only blew the tiny paddle of a machine gun arm off its left side. The pilot didn't break stride and kept going out of her range.

She thumped her armrest. _These guys know how to drive. If this were an even fight we'd probably all be dead by now._

She switched back to the main company channel. "That's enough for now. Finish up here and get that _Griffin_ and its pilot _intact_ , and let's get the hovers we took in here for dragging salvage. She twisted her torso left to see over five of her own 'mechs surrounding the _Griffin_ , its pilot taking a page from the _Wasp's_ book and was beginning to climb out of his cockpit hatch.

Behind her, a voice from quite far away, barely enough to be picked up from her rear microphones came in.

" _I called dibs, Dirk!"_ Torres showed up on his rear camera from the ground, cupping his hands over his mouth to make sure his "request" at a twenty-ton upgrade to his dead 'mech was heard. He had to be over a hundred meters away and yet was still audible.

She twisted her _Hawk_ towards him, opening up her external speakers. "We'll talk about it later…Bullhorn. Yeah, I like that. Bullhorn. Go get yourself checked out with the doc for now." The tiny picture of a barrel-chested man on her HUD camera put his hands on his hips in thought, shrugged, and turned back towards the bivouac.

 _Half a wasp if we can find a cockpit for it, some prisoners, some tank and_ Locust _parts, and an almost fully-intact_ Griffin _, for a_ Jenner _, and some armor. I can live with that, if it saved Bullhorn's life too. We're gonna need to find some more medium-sized parts at this rate._ She nodded to herself, the neurohelmet bobbing up and down her face due to being a quarter-size too big after the padding inside had conformed. _They're coming bigger each time, though. And they seem to know when we're going to frog it. And that_ Otscout _pilot was a God. Thank you, rain, for all that mud upstream._

Then she realized the _Griffin_ wouldn't be combat ready for their fighting style until the ruined jump jets near its feet were cleaned out and repaired. She grimaced at the thought.

"-yy Dirk, how about Coyotes?"Over the command channel, Kang's slightly malfunctioning microphone broke the momentary silence in Emily's ear. She thought about that one a little longer than most names they've suggested over the years. Coyotes were smaller, hunted in packs a lot, and didn't pick fights with prey they couldn't handle. That seemed appropriate, now that she thought about it.

"That's actually…not too bad!"

"I like it." Mother Hen weighed in. Her LRM tubes were still smoking from the last two vollies she shot off in this fight. "We usually suggested things that hunted alone, like a Lynx or Jaguar on back on Terra."

"Or something way too big for our style, like lion n' tigers." _Of course Clothesline wanted an opinion on this one._ Emily thumped her armrest again. _That's it!_

She opened her company channel once again. "Hey. My fellow Coyotes, we've got ourselves an official company name. What do you think?

Someone broke into a high-pitched howl, probably Ifrit, and most of the MechWarriors decided to join in. Even Kang with his scratchy microphone.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

April 2, 3025

New Branson, Gimli Continent

Suk II

Emily sat down on the ferrocrete curb outside what was probably the only vehicle repair business on the entire continent, in a small rural town of maybe a few thousand people, at best. The local touring companies relied on the owner for service to their off-road fleet they kept down there, but the seasons had changed from comfortably warm in the winter to _I must take off everything except my underwear and just lay in front of something that blows air. You know what? The underwear's coming off too._

Which meant in the summer months, business started to drop. Whoever's flag was flying in the center of town or whoever's face was on the local currency when C-bills weren't in play didn't really matter to most rural townsfolk so far from the throes of interstellar warfare. This town probably hadn't seen an off-worlder in a couple years and was seemingly more interested in having someone new to talk to for a little while than what side they were fighting for.

The town's name, New Branson, hadn't even been officially recognized in by the parliament in the capitol yet. Lots of stuff was backlogged after the election earlier this year.

The newly-branded 1st Iron Coyotes had traded the mechanic's time, and the time of anyone else who knew their way around the insides of something that hovered in-town, for a mostly-intact _Pegasus_. Minus the weapons and ammo. _Either they could make a deal with the RoughRiders or the Militia to get something, like some help putting up a small treatment plant of their own so they won't have to get deliveries every week, or perhaps give it to the government Militia as a "show of patriotism or whatever." Or maybe would use it as a fun toy out there where the lizards are about as big as an SRM round. Who knows._ Emily didn't really care.

Some of their 'mech techs they brought along with them knew a little about hovers, so they stayed around to learn a few tricks and to keep an eye out for sabotage, which they were _much_ more familiar with.

Raising a bottle of PuriClear, one of the brands of water from the plants shipped down here, Pearl walked over and tossed one to Emily. Standing in front of her with her usual one-hip-to-the-side time of swagger, she gave a wink while Emily took a drink. "So far so good with the _Harasser_ ," she said, taking a sip.

"A couple of our techs have small arms in a loose perimeter around the shop if he tries anything with the SRMS. "He says he's going to try and sell the _Peg_ ' to the RoughRiders for super cheap when this all blows over. This brings our active tank battalion to a whopping two vehicles. Woowoo." She turned back towards the repair shop. "We still have high hopes for the _Saladin_ , mainly because the 'twenty was still in working order on it. Drive fans that handled most of the forward momentum won't ever get fixed by us, but it'd make a good gun emplacement if things got hot. We could tow it most places as long as the air brakes work."

"Who wanted to gun it?" Emily asked, bottle nearly empty already. It was tough to stay consistently hydrated in this heat when you couldn't boil the local water. Negotiating with the locals to double their rations of PuriClear out in their bivouacs for the later summer months had cost them another looted _Harasser_ from their first engagement. To them, it was worth it. The stuff they brought from the dropship itself still had the ghostly flavor of having just left another person's body.

"Who _doesn't_ want the chance to shoot a 'twenty without all the hassle of driving and maintaining it?" I'm debating calling Torres "Dibs," but "Bullhorn" was better." Pearl shook her head and sipped her own bottle. "That and you beat me to it and made it all official n' shit." The 'twenty referred to the two-hundred-millimeter autocannon mounted to the _Saladin._ One of the biggest around, it required special programming to add more forward thrust from the engines to offset the recoil that would send it backwards a few meters while hovering.

"Let's let Zol' decide on this one. They've been doing a bang-up job with almost no real working space to use. They could all be spokespeople for Vinyltape with how well they're keeping the stored parts clean." Staff Sgt. Dorek Zolnierczyk, their chief 'mech tech. Kang thought it was best to use a rank structure close to the old Star League, so it didn't sting as much if they went from a contract on one side of a conflict directly to the opposite side when the terms of service ran out. "Little things," he said.

"I really wanted to ask you to ask him to take Gentry off repairing armor. The kid doesn't know how to do legs."

"I'll ask him. At this rate we don't have enough spare armor to make it to noon." _Noon_ was their codeword for the six-month point in the contract where the Combine Liaison would have a dropship primarily set up for field repairs touchdown somewhere near their AO, amidst a lot of other planetary hubbub that would give them a window of a couple days to get the most critical repairs done, swap loot they had essentially buried for now for more parts, ammo, credit towards a higher payout, and other miscellaneous things that made a unit of her size run another six months. Assuming they didn't all get completely obliterated before then. The RoughRiders really seemed to get a kick out of severing arms off their 'mechs.

"Spare parts aside, we're actually increasing in overall tonnage, which is pretty awesome," said Pearl, downing what was left of the bottle and crumpling it up. She leaned back on her hands. "Too damned bad we can't do much with the _Griffin_ just yet. Stupid mud. Stupid _wonderful_ stupid mud."

During the river fight, the _Griffin_ not only got stuck, it continued to get _more_ stuck as the fifty-five-tonner apparently found a nice pocket of air underneath the river and sunk up to its knees. Random rocks and debris jammed up in the left foot, crushing the myomer "muscles" and the actuator inside, making it practically immobile until they found a replacement and a suitable place to actually restore it. They managed to limp it back to their bivouac, but it took almost a day.

"How's Bullhorn liking cleaning out the jump jets of the _Griff?"_ Being able to not only replace your recently-lost battlemech but replace it with one of more value, and almost immediately was incredibly rare for a 'mech jock. Most often times a pilot was dispossessed for long periods of time, or never found another one. Being dispossessed felt worse than death for some people. Like being able to fly and suddenly…not. 

Pearl might have missed the joke. "He misses all his lasers and missiles. He was used to running the _Jenner_. It means he can shoot more often, though. Doesn't toss him around like the _Jen_ did either, so he appreciates that."

The way the Coyotes worked their accounts involved using the money pooled from the four leaders of the company that was able to cover the loss of every light mech they hired for this campaign. Since Bullhorn was compensated, if he lost the _Griffin_ it would come out of his pocket. An expensive risk, but one he was willing to take for now. They gave him a fair bonus every month as thanks for taking on the additional risk for the sake of having enough pilots in all their mechs.

"Good. Ribs ok?"

"Doc says another couple weeks and the hairline fractures will heal."

"OK. I'll try to keep Clothesline's lance off too much duty until he heals. We didn't exactly bring spare 'mech jocks."

The distant sound of grinding metal and laser cutting was briefly interrupted by the far more peaceful sounding of the local Minaret beginning the mid-afternoon call to prayer. Suk II was primarily Islamic, but on the more casual side of it. Neither of the women sitting together were particularly religious, but they wouldn't deny something awesome might have helped shape this war-torn part of the Milky Way they lived in.

"Oh. Nymph offered to tow the _Sal_ anywhere you want, if we were able to rig up a way for her to fire her 'twenty and the _Sal's_ with the same trigger." Emily laughed at that one. Impossible with their existing gear, but a fun idea for the next contract.

"Tell her we'll see if we can work out a way to do that next year."

"Okay." Pearl's hand innocently slid over onto the top of Emily's for a moment. Neither of them said anything. Their unspoken feelings for each other, complicated over the last five years by the fact that either of them could die later that day was made even more complicated by the fact that one was now the commanding officer of the other, with almost ten times the people around that could get the wrong idea than they were used to. Midnight rendezvous in a dropship during transit were one thing, but this…

Emily slid her hand away gently and smiled at her. "We'll figure that part out, babe. Let's keep up appearances for now."

Pearl grinned playfully, white hair with the tiniest bit of grey getting a gentle, welcome breeze. It contrasted even more with her more recent tan she acquired in the last month. She nodded and went back to her original sitting pose, hands to herself. "We could always raid the capitol and retire early…" That brought another laugh from Emily, this one a lot heartier.

Up above, an aerospacer was flying well above the clouds, and very fast. The sound had finally reached down below. _Likely doing recon duty,_ thought Emily. Word had obviously gotten out from a couple more patriotic townsfolk, despite them being few and far between out here. Then word had gotten out to the RoughRiders that a distant town was being "held hostage" while the invaders "pillaged the town for parts and repairs," or some such propaganda. Now that they had eyes-on the Coyotes inside the town, as well as one or two of the Coyote 'mechs on the edge of town making the whole "hostage" ruse look more authentic, VTOLS and other such shenanigans were likely on their way.

Those kinds of shenanigans usually involved heavier 'mechs, which slowed down the response time a bit. She waved to the 'mechs showing a little leg to the RoughRiders, and one flashed his searchlight once in response. _Welp, that didn't take long. Someone was already watching Pearl and I share a moment._ She sighed."Tell everyone they have five mikes to wrap everything up and to be back in the woods in under ten mikes," Emily said, half-grunting while standing up. She looked up at the aero jock, unsure if the cameras were directly on her lean, one hundred seventy-five cm frame, but waved up to him anyway, and turned to jog towards the jungle and it's viney, scaley, mosquito-infested arms.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

April 4th, 3025

Parliament Office 28, Ministry of Safekeeping

Mach 'Beh, Planetary Capitol

Suk II

Orsula Alvarez looked out of the large window overlooking the sunset of the city and it's Roman-inspired columns leading up to the front steps of the Parliament Hall. All seventy-eight steps. Most architects on just about any planet tend to go with that trend of lots-of-steps to emphasize the scale and weight of the type of responsibility anyone who walked into the Hall on a regular basis typically carried.

 _That, and probably to help keep us fat-cats in shape_ , she thought idly, concentrating more on that, than the words one of her agents had just spoken to her. _It's a shame more people don't actually_ use _those steps regularly._

"No real significance on that date for this planet. I suppose that would leave it wide open for a date of remembrance. I'll have to come up with something by then. Her jet-black hair reflected the darkening orange sunset onto the face of her agent, who at the moment was already fighting to control his lust for the incredibly attractive Minister of Safekeeping. For her age at forty-seven, she looked half that. Curves in all the right places, and a smile that would charm just about any snake. _She's a vixen and she knows it_ , he warned himself. _Don't fall for her charms or you'll probably end up dead in half the time you expect_.

Her deep pink dress, wrapped like bedsheets around her resembling some of the more ceremonial garb the Parliament used for official business, also had a train over half a meter behind her as she paced. Since the dress required her to pace in a manner that resembled a mop swabbing a floor in order to avoid tripping, those who knew her more intimately would often relate it to a mop cleaning up the trail of blood dripping from her hands.

Those kinds of backroom rumors were the kind that allowed her rival to beat her in the race for Prime Minister. She had the masses in her sway, for the most part. Masses that were sorely disappointed she wound up losing, despite the narrow margin and the heavy majority of the popular vote she won. Well more than half of the roughly 1 billion on the planet.

"That's up to you, my lady. We're more concerned with how you want to handle the two cities after the fact." He pulled out his paperwork for her to sign, in old-fashioned laser pen, authorizing some transfers of money that would no doubt be flying across businesses in the Capitol until it became almost untraceable. Almost. Money that would equip and arm some of the more "patriotic" of her crew, set to begin protesting, and the inability of their hired garrison to defend them. Money that would fund the altering of weapons cameras on most of the defenders of this planet, as well as many others, allowing the public to see only what she wanted them to see.

Most of those cameras had already been altered. No doubt the men and women sticking their necks out for her were getting impatient about their likely-to-soon-be blood money.

"You guys know what you're doing," she said with a purr, while flicking her signature across the sheets like she's done a thousand times before. "Just be sure to give it at least a day before you start shouting all over town. Holovid interviews need to appear to be unorganized, at first. Don't start showing all the signs everyone made literally minutes after it happens." She furrowed her wrinkled brow, one of the only true betrayers of her age, along with the crows feet around her eyes, and handed the sheets back to her agent. "The reaction needs to look from the heart." She put her hands on her hips, adding emphasis to how her dress left very little to the imagination.

 _How did she even move in that thing,_ he wondered as he put the data sheets back in his briefcase.

With a nod and an "aye, my lady," he turned and stepped out before he got himself into any more trouble being with such a beautiful serpent, leaving Orsula a few moments time to herself to enjoy the darkening sunset with another smile before business dinners and other after-hours activities took up the rest of her night.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

April 17, 3025

Continent of Gimli, deep jungle

Suk II

"Any disagreements? Let me know now, 'cause it's a loooong walk back if we get cold feet when we get there." Emily stood up and crossed her arms at her friends from across the crude map table they assembled out of wood. Their largest bivouac, nicknamed Camp Bow Wow, was starting to go from the stone age to a half-decent looking camp, since they haven't been patrolled that deeply yet. They even rigged up a rope and pulley system with some heavy vines and wooden platforms to do stand-up 'mech repairs. However, the longer they sat there, the more time the RoughRiders had to find them.

"Frankly I'd go along just to turn around for the privilege of my feet being cold during the whole trip back." Pearl's "Flock" lance had drawn the short straw to stay behind and guard the bivouacs, and to generally keep any nearby patrols from getting too interested in getting much deeper into their jungle. It didn't hurt the decision that half her lancemates struggled with long marches in uneven ground.

Needless to say, that made Nymph and her _Urbie_ practically jump out of her seat to come along on this one. She'd been out of almost every fight for almost six weeks and was getting ancy. She even volunteered to tow the _Saladin_ behind her. "You know, just in case," she said. Kang had suggested they get her a little _Sal_ -shaped balloon instead, which got everyone laughing the night before.

"I'm not the biggest fan of this idea, but I agree we have to get a little more ambitious." Kang, their official XO, still gave the other two in the group with the lowest ranks equal weight to their opinions when it came to these meetings pre-op. He trusted them all with his life. "Either we sit around, and their recon patrols eventually triangulate where we are based on the vegetation we've cut through, meaning we get overrun sooner than later, or we keep them on the back foot like we were originally getting paid to do.

Danek spoke up next, doing his usual thoughtful head scratch. "My biggest concern is if we don't catch a convoy leaving the plant, we won't really have much to tow the water back ourselves. And if we _do_ happen to bag a 'mech, I highly doubt they'll have any flatbed hovers conveniently waiting around for us to take."

The Coyote's overall success in the last month and a half wasn't entirely their own. It was part of the overall strategy to keep the RoughRiders occupied and on-planet while…whatever that was way beyond their pay grade was going on. Maybe here, maybe on another planet. Who knew.

Their limited number of mines just to create a _go any further and it's going to get real bad_ kind of warning sign was already on the verge of being exhausted. Hansen's men certainly didn't enjoy sweating their asses off any more than Emily's did, but they were pros, and the Coyotes were beginning to spend their precious real estate around the thirty to forty thousand square kilometers of jungle creating a shroud that was almost impenetrable by most remaining satellites or radar.

So, to keep them _out_ of the jungle and reacting to her, Emily had proposed a raid on one of the southernmost water treatment plants. Almost on the northern edge of the jungle, near a river and bordering a highway, a smaller plant that likely had a half-decent garrison and a faster response time for reinforcements than the previous fights would be a good intel-gathering mission, too.

Silent until now, their Combine Liaison, Sho-Sa Jin Junnosuke, cleared his throat. "Based on intel, you're looking at anywhere from a medium to a mixed medium/heavy lance, with infantry forming an early warning perimeter, probably more concentrated to the south. We haven't seen any sign of using mines, but they have had plenty of time to make physical barriers all around the plant. I would not try to walk across the river. One of our other groups up north lost a _Javelin_ to some kind of tripwire in the water. This plant hasn't been hit yet, so they're likely bored out of their minds, and frustrated they're not in the fighting." His English being exceptionally good, and his name being rather easy to pronounce as simply "Captain JJ," were probably the two biggest contributors to him getting assigned as liaison. Mildly impressed with the Coyotes, though slightly irritated at a mid-contract re-branding that added a lot of paperwork to his day, he allowed them to do their thing.

He did, however, have a knack for finger-waving as a form of a warning, which annoyed most of the group to no end. Which he went ahead and did now. "It is far more important to your contract that you do not take any needless losses, however. Simply showing up and firing a few salvos and making sure everyone is visible long enough to be recorded for intel should do the job." To that, they each silently nodded at each other. By now they've shown the same 'mechs over and over, so it was getting pretty clear how large their forces actually were down here. If they were to lose any of them, or several, it would open up many doors elsewhere. Their numbers were their strength.

Emily turned to face him. "Frankly I'd rather raid both the plant and at least show some skin at the nearby mining district to really get their attention, but we're not getting paid extra for that. Unless…?" She smiled at J.J., who simply shook his head.

"This will do fine. You are getting paid monthly, so no extra risks are necessary. I will come with you in my _Panther_ , and I will make my shot count. I also need to observe how committed Hansen's men are defending to the south." This would be his first mission with them not watching from the ground floor. _He must be getting bored too, hanging out with the techs in the rear most of the time_ , Emily thought. Most Combine liaison officers are generally instructed to conserve themselves. It was easier to gauge successes/failures of a unit without their help. She at least appreciated his help working on maintenance to pass the time.

"OK then, we leave in the morning. Tell 'Zol to bring about a half-dozen techs for some emergency rigging work on whatever vehicles we can capture. Should be about four days round-trip, plus upwards of one day waiting for a convoy to leave with some hydro. Oh, and tell everyone to bring their leashes for towing."


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

April 20, 3025

Channel 5, Round Table Roundup at 5

Mach 'Beh, Capitol City

Suk II

"So, what you're saying is, the reason these mercs are on our planet is because Alvarez lost the election?" The head of the table, Wes Johnson, with the perfectly-straightened hair, commanding voice, natural smile that brought many women to their knees, and easy-to-remember name, was between two people, a man and a woman, both giving their opinions on current events related to the election last January. And, out of the camera frame down below, giving hand signals to warn the two not to slap each other on the show if they want to actually be _on_ the show.

On his left was a member of Parliament, Douglass Ivarrson II, confidant to Alvarez, despite his appearance that would suggest otherwise. Short, balding, slightly overweight, and looking rather sick of all the questions. He leaned back in a _come at me_ kind of pose, pointing a finger at the woman across the way. "What I'm _saying_ , if she's not trying to twist my words around, is that it's a hell of a coincidence, but still a coincidence, and there's no other evidence to support it. This has happened several times in the last few years. They come to loot whatever mining resources are in play and they leave. Whatever timeframe you attach it to is irrelevant, because these are interstellar rivals. They could care less about our planet as a whole. If they really cared, they would have just invaded it instead of the occasional loot n' run. They can't take the RoughRiders. It's not worth it to them."

On his right, Aide to the current Prime Minister, Sophia Chapel, looking very smug and proper, and quite attractive in her own right., never broke his gaze. "They invaded shortly after the Senate election two years ago. Pretty convenient if you ask me."

" _Raided_ , not invaded! How can I even have a discussion with someone who can't even get their facts straight?" He looked at Wes. "You know what? That's it. This is a waste of my time." After some brief fumbling with the microphone attached to his vest, he stormed out.

Wes simply smiled at the camera. "That's about all the time our esteemed MP has for us. Ms. Chapel, thank you for joining us. When we come back, the coaches of Temporal Tech and Alshayra University South come together to go over the more recent Can-Do epidemic amongst our college-level sports teams."

PuriClear, Langley Treatment Plant

Continent of Gimli

Suk II

"I think we should have stuck with plan A, Dirk," came Ifrit's sarcastic and slightly nervous voice over the company comms.

" _Can it Ifrit,_ or I'll shoot you myself! Just jump the damn river and form a line on the other side." Emily thought that came out a little harsher than It needed to be, but she didn't need people challenging her in a firefight. They had arrived a little behind schedule, and they weren't certain when the next shipment was leaving the plant, so they had snuck into positions on the other side of the river about two kilometers away, still in the cover of the jungle. Chrome had suggested two of the bigger 'mechs go around one side of the plant to set up a screen in case any trucks left in a hurry.

That was plan B.

Emily took everyone else and waited for the signal to go, but apparently someone stepped on a figurative twig at some point, because the RoughRiders had sent out some infantry patrols with portable SRM's, one of which just flew by Emily's _Shadow Hawk's_ head. The cover blown for her main force, she ordered the charge before any 'mech pilots got to their 'mechs. She shook her head at the thought. _No way we're gonna stop them from getting powered up_. _Let's just show some leg and get back if we have to._

Nymph's _Urbanmech_ had just begun the jump across the narrowest part of the river, only about twenty-five meters or so. Even if she was stuck in the mud before the jump she'd still likely make it. Directly across from her, the three _Fire Javelin_ brothers had crossed, and one turned back, sticking his 'mech's hand out as if to offer it to help the _Urbie_ cross. Emily barked at them through her mic. "Romeo, turn your damn 'mech around towards the plant and worry about chivalry later!" _You moron!_ She added silently through her teeth.

The last two days spent slogging through dirt and maneuvering around tree after endless tree, worrying about every step you took was really wearing on her nerves. Several of her lights, including Ifrit's _Valk_ and Romeo's _Javelin_ had taken a few unnecessary dents getting tangled up and falling over on the way here.

Being one of the last to cross, she lit her jump jets briefly to sail across the river. The mid-day sun beating down at a cozy thirty-nine degrees also illuminated several patches of neon green in the water, illuminating some of the harmful algae. As she landed, several small explosions and pieces of bark bounced off her left side as her forces were clearing out the last of the remaining patrols on the south side of the plant. Over two platoons of RoughRiders were gunned down, helplessly overtaken by the advancing jumpers. They blew off half the left arm from Vi's _Spider_ and added several pockmarks to most of the Coyotes, but that was about it. Surprise worked in their favor, but that was gone now.

A general airhorn was audible up ahead through the remaining forest between them and the plant, a few hundred meters ahead. Any remaining infantry and 'mech pilots were scrambling. And no doubt calling for some backup. Hopefully it was still far, far away.

"All clear of the river, Dirk," said Tarzan, one of the three _Fire Jav_ brothers.

"Roger, stay lined up with me in the center while we move up. Don't get hung up on anything, and try to remember the path you took to get here. Captain JJ and Chrome's lance on the right, and Clothesline's on the left. Dirk's lance stay near the center." Speaking of which…she keyed over to command comms. "Dirk here, you get anything good along the road yet?

"Not yet," came Chrome's voice from his _Enforcer_ , along with Clothesline's _Wolverine_ on the opposite side of the plant. "Wait. Got something big on seismic. Might be a tank or a loaded trailer. Will advise."

"Affirm. We're about two hundred meters out but it's still trees for years. ETA one mike." Up ahead, she could start to make out a little bit of the buildings of the plant.

"Power ups on sensors!" Clothesline. "Can see them from here now. _Warhammer_ , _Rifleman_ , _Hunchback_ with a twenty. Fourth unknown. Engaging SRM infantry. Footies."

"Engaging footies." came Chrome's voice as well. "We're screwed if the 'mechs come north, Dirk."

"Affirm. Pushing hard. You heard them, Coyotes. Priority target is that _Hunchback_ , break formation and advance." A chorus of "ayes" plus one horribly reenacted Tarzan yell sounded in her ears. Large laser fire peeked through the trees ahead and to her left, where the _Enforcer_ and _Wolvie_ were firing at them. The buildings were almost right on top of them, but the trees continued nonetheless, through the plant and beyond. "The plant has trees for cover. Try not to jump too high. fall back if you're the one taking fire and come back in later."

The _Hunchback_ came into view on one of the narrow roads inside the plant, twisting his torso left and right rapidly, trying to get a bead on any of the _Jav_ brothers. They seemed to be using their own channel for the three of them, dancing back and forth behind cover, because the RoughRider never fired his giant cannon on his right shoulder. Not even once. Meanwhile, it kept taking periodic laser fire from the trio. Emily turned her 'mech towards it, set to take advantage of the distraction.

"Heavies coming north! I'm between you and them now. Fourth 'mech is a _QUICKdraw_. They haven't landed a shot on us yet." Chrome grunted the 'mech's name as he made his way back into the jungle as fast as a fifty-tonner could manage." Emily confirmed and put her attention back towards the _Hunch_. Several twisting trees were starting to sprout fires along their trunks as fire was exchanged between both sides. Two trees, twisted together like lovers, had become completely consumed, causing her heat to spike slightly as she passed them.

Taking a left along the first wall she saw in front of her, she saw Chrome's _Enforcer_ jump onto a nearby building, and her eyes widened at the gamble. It barely held for the initial landing but was showing immediate signs of crumbling. "Chrome, that building's going to go any second, don't stay—"

Too late, the building already caved beneath him as he fell a few meters down into the rubble. She ignored it for now and put her eyes back on the _Hunch_ around the corner as she whirled right. She fired everything that didn't say LRM and scored hits all along his right side. The air around her protested and became a few centigrade hotter. All around her the _Fire Javelins,_ being fifteen tons lighter, took to the rooftops and landed above and behind her, pouring laser fire into the trapped RoughRider.

Seconds later, Vi's _Spider_ joined in, and the _Hunch_ pilot proceeded to drip armor from all sides as over a dozen medium lasers combined to melt the fifty-tonner. The ferrocrete underneath him began to gather pools of liquified, glowing metal in small piles. The nearby infantry, from the floor of a building to Emily's left, fired a small barrage of SRM's at the _Spider_ , completing the arm amputation their comrades began earlier, and almost knocking her clear off the building. She caught herself and lit her jets back to the other side, to temporary safety.

"Chrome, get the hell up and get south! Go go go go!" Emily almost screamed as the _Quickdraw_ rounded the corner of the building Chrome fell into and put a handful of green-tinted lasers and SRM's into Chrome's chest. The armor held, and if Chrome was knocked out from the fall, that probably woke him back up. The battered _Enforcer_ started to roll over the debris onto its belly while most of the Coyote 'mechs still on the roof turned to fire a volley of their own to cover him. "Coyotes, don't stay on the rooftops that long. Get on, shoot, get off!" Two of the _Fire Javs_ turned to make a jumping exit in response. Tarzan decided to get one more volley on the _Hunch_.

Somehow that _Hunch_ survived that initial onslaught, but its right arm was hanging by a thread or two of myomer, it's limp fingers dragging along the rooftop of a nearby office building. It wanted to leave as fast as it could, breaking into a run as it cleared the buildings, but it's left side suddenly exploded, causing it to slip on the pavement, arm flailing in a huge cartwheel into the road, finally snapping off. "Oh. Hey guys. Finally got here," said Nymph, her breath huffing without her normal thick Russian accent when she was stressed. "Hey, wait a second, my gun's cam's went dark."

Emily focused on her own HUD. She wasn't getting any targeting reticles. It was like her 'mech's computer thought she had no weapons. A quick test fire of one of her lasers showed it was functioning, but she couldn't aim anything.

"Same here!" "Me too!" "What the fuck?" Everyone started responding almost the same way. Even Captain JJ's _Panther_ shot the ground, then replied he couldn't either. Strangely enough, except for the infantry, which was dispersing on its own, both sides had stopped shooting. The _Quickdraw_ broke into a run, presumably to get away and figure out what happened first…

…and then everything went bright for about a half second. One of the buildings down the street erupted directly in front of her. Then the shockwave hit a split-second afterwards in a hail of flying rock and metal. Her ears first went very loud, then much quieter as her external microphones were blown out and she only heard the rest of the explosion from a sealed cockpit. She staggered back, off-balance, crashing into another building behind her. Her 'mech reclined partially into the building as it began to give way, and then fell through it completely, crashing her on her back. Her head bounced off her command couch and she went completely deaf for a moment. She could only sit there slack-jawed.

A few moments passed, then a dozen voices all around her head began to swirl back into focus. One voice she made out as unfamiliar.

"-ttion Coyotes, this is Leutnant Topeni of Hansen's" …then things became fuzzy again for a moment. She blinked a few times and shook her head. Fumbled around for a public channel. Found it.

"Go ahead, RoughRider. Whatever your name was." She probably didn't sound all that authoritative, but the other officer decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"We have no idea what that explosion came from, but we saw lots of possible covert ops guys with Combine equipment leaving that building before it exploded. Half your people were caught in it, so I'm guessing you didn't know that was supposed to happen, either. I'm calling for an immediate cease-fire while we handle wounded and dead. The plant is a loss anyway. Two-hour cease fire, agreed?"

 _Half my people?_ She never closed her mouth. She just sat there a moment. On her back.

"Do you agree, Coyotes?"

She coughed and said "Coyote agrees. Two hours." She checked her 'mech's damage, saw there was a breach in the chest, but almost everything was functioning. Apparently, her comms had been partially busted. She looked below her her soot-covered viewscreen and saw a metal girder sticking out from her mech's chest, bent at the end like a flex-straw and starting to cool off. Everything on her front side had turned black.

Moments later after wiggling her _Hawk_ out of the building and back to her feet, she realized she wasn't on company comms. _Maybe I hit something during the fall by accident._ She adjusted it and heard all the chatter. Someone was breathing very hard, trying not to cry.

"Dirk here. I'm OK. Someone give me a damn update?"

"Dirk, our techs are dead." Her _Falcon_ pilot, McIntosh. "They were working on getting some vehicles going when the explosion tipped the whole building over on top of them. They're all dead. Ifrit's down. Alive but not moving. The brothers were the only ones not caught in the blast." A pause, some sniffing. "Chrome was right next to it, too. No response, Major."

 _Kang…_ she walked her 'mech around what was left of the plant, looking for confirmation. She found the _Urbanmech,_ laying on its left side, smoldering but mostly intact. Just black all over. She gave it a gentle tap with her Hawk's foot, and it wiggled its big cannon arm in response. "Dirk here, Nymph alive but needs a medic ASAP. Probably had comms blown out."

A few dozen more paces, searching…there was a piece of his arm, the large laser still attached but mangled. _His 'mech was already torn apart before the explosion…_ after a few more moments of wandering, she came across the head. Half of the head. Not attached to anything else. The remaining half showed the charred remains of Rhys Kang, one of her friends for half a decade, laying peacefully inside.

She went back to a public frequency. "Torrelli! This is Major Emily Wright, leader of the Iron Coyotes." Her voice was firm this time. "We have no idea how this happened, but we'll find out. Requesting the cease-fire be extended indefinitely. Dozens of people died needlessly here, and I want who's fucking responsible."

A long pause. Too long. Finally, the _Warhammer_ on the other side of the plant turned itself towards her _Hawk._ "It's Topeni. It's not really my call for the long-term. And yes, something went really wrong here today. We have medevacs on the way, should be enough room for your people too. Let's get them out of here, and then we'll talk."

She confirmed, then looked around the wreckage for any more survivors. People of every rank and billet from both sides were scouring the ground for wounded. Trucks began to head north full of grilled RoughRider infantry, and likely a few of her own people. She resisted the urge to point her autocannon at the sky and fire a few rounds in anger. She did, however, let out a voiceless scream for a moment, until she was out of breath.

Her XO and one of her best friends was dead. Some new friends and comrades that barely had the chance to see combat were possibly dead. People who weren't even _meant_ to see combat were dead. And she had to write to all their families and loved ones. She hadn't even started on Maiden's letter yet…and after realizing that, she cried. Hard. Half her comm equipment was blown out, so she didn't know if anyone could hear her. Not that she cared. She didn't give a damn.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

1500 hours Local Time, April 20, 3025

Excellence Electronics, North Brache Boulevard

Mach 'Beh, continent of Alshayra

Suk II

What remained of the crowds that didn't immediately seek shelter gathered around the holovids on display at a local electronics store. Numerous people shouted to change to SNN, and shortly the screens flickered over to Wes Johnson and his impeccable hair as he talked about the breaking story.

"—take you live to Alberto Ramirez, at one of the plants now. Roberto?" 

The camera cut to a short, grave-looking man, also with hair that didn't seem phased by the crisis behind it. He was standing in front of a small inferno being doused with water from various vehicles nearby. "Thanks Wes. Behind me is one of approximately seven water treatment plants that was attacked in the last two hours. That number continues to climb as we get more reports from across the planet. This one is on the corner of Cameron and 13th, slightly south of the center of the city. Traffic is obviously a mess for blocks in all directions, and several dozen people have been killed or injured in the blast. Local fire and rescue have taken the victims of this scene to Golden Leaf Hospital."

"Alberto, have you had a chance to talk to any authorities as to what might have caused this explosion?" The camera split to show both newscasters. Across the bottom of the screen, tickers said phrases like "Death toll 1,500 and rising," "Citizens urged to stay indoors," "Several areas of Alshayra without power," along with contact numbers of hospitals treating victims.

"Based on the timing of all the explosions being so close together, there's no doubt this was a planned attack. From what everyone else in the field is telling me, the pattern was almost the same. They went for either whatever is powering the plant, or where some of the more flammable chemicals used in the water treatment process were stored, presumably for maximum damage. Nearby buildings were protected from the blast with the safety walls in place, but it also caused it to concentrate the damage within the plants for an even more devastating effect." Despite all this, the newscaster kept things in the past tense. _Was, were,_ etc. It helped imply that their planet wasn't currently on fire and everyone's head was going to fall off next. Given the hostilities over the years on Suk II, people in the media were trained this way to prevent panic.

"Given the lack of hostile military around the cities, do you think this was the work of someone else?" Wes asked, palms open with a half-shrug.

"No doubt about it, Wes. The timetable was just too close. Seven plants within two hours, all across the planet. We just don't know who caused all this tragedy yet, other than they were well-organized and well-funded.

"Alberto, was anything else hit besides treatment plants?"

"Not that we can tell at this time. We'll keep you posted the second we know anything else."

"Thank you very much, Alberto. We take you live now to Alshayra University Trauma Center, where Kylie Dumont has an update for us on the number of total civilians injured or killed by these attacks. Kylie, thanks for joining us."

Firebase Yankee

0800 Hours, April 22, 3025

South Continent of Alshayra

Suk II

The two small moons were almost in line with each other as they sank below the horizon, as if to surrender to the power of their nearby sun coming up the other side. At least for now. The small white circles combined to create a lopsided figure eight, or a tiny, two-tiered snowman slowly melting into the planet. At least that's what most kids on Suk II called it. The moons were almost always in-line with each other, like a pair of dancers forever spinning around this rock.

 _I'd really rather just be a kid right now. I take back everything I ever said about how awesome being a grownup is,_ Emily thought to herself as she sat on a rigid folding chair inside the temporary mech bay of the RoughRiders firebase, designated "Yankee." It wasn't too far north of the now-smoldering treatment plant. _We were screwed anyway, doing this mission,_ she thought. _More than a company of medium and heavy battlemechs were on standby in and around here, with VTOL and infantry support. We would have been overrun with RoughRiders within a half-hour if that explosion hadn't gone off._

 _And I was too caught up in the fighting to notice how deep we had gone in. The trees were just too damn thick to get anyone's attention for long enough without going hip-deep into the fighting._ Which more often than not made getting _out_ of the firefight even more difficult. Especially without casualties.

She thought of Rhys Kang again, and how she needed a new XO and pronto. But any serious thoughts about either Clothesline or Mother Hen taking his place were typically garbled by her own guilt beating her senseless, until her mind became another pile of fuzz in her head. She couldn't concentrate on that right now.

As if conjured by that thought, Clothesline, with his usual nervous head scratch in one hand along with a hot paper cup of coffee in the other, walked up and handed it to Emily. Two Sugareasies, one synth creamer. Just how she liked it. "Hey," was all he could say, softly.

"Hey." She took the cup and cradled her hands around it, despite the already sweat-inducing heat of the morning, destined to get more uncomfortable as the day went on. She somehow managed to shiver despite all that with the coffee, under her blanket given to her by a RoughRider tech. "Gonna send the rest of the triplets back to base to pass the word along once I talk to this whoever's in there." They had already sent Romeo and his mostly-untouched _Fire Jav_ back to their bivouac to relay what had already happened, and the state of who had survived.

They were both sitting outside the central command tent with "Captain JJ," who remained mostly silent during the trip up here. At the moment, he spent most of his time looking at the ground in front of him, arms crossed, trying to meditate or something. The general murmer of high-level hubbub went on on behind them in the tent with too-many-antennas-to-count sticking out of the top of it. People came and went, some giving them looks of mixed opinions, though most were just moving along trying to get one task out of one dozen accomplished. And that was before lunch.

 _Well they probably won't have to worry about us anymore._ With the exception of Mother Hen's lance being close to full strength, and three-fourths of the late Chrome's lance intact, the rest of her company was at fifty percent or less. The list of damages to the surviving force she took with her that went off the page, and off the proceeding five pages after that. Her _Shadow Hawk_ alone was a mess, the girder still sticking out of its chest during the entire walk. Her comms went in and out repeatedly the entire time. Half her heat sinks were busted internally, making the march feel like standing in a simmering pot of water just from movement.

Even JJ, who's _Panther_ was charred black on his entire left side, and suffered a gyro hit from getting knocked back so fiercely by the explosion, was on the list of casualties. He had some difficulty walking with everyone else but insisted on staying in his 'mech until the gyro finally seized up halfway and had to be carried by VTOL.

Two of the survivors, Nymph and her trash can of an _Urbie_ , and McIntock's _Falcon_ took a ride on the back of flatbeds to get here. Both pilots were concussed pretty badly. McIntock had the halo-ring of yellow around the blood coming out of his nose, indicating possible brain or spinal damage. Emily had silently applauded his performance. _How he was able to give a full report yesterday and remain standing in his 'mech while doing so after that debacle was anyone's guess._ People started calling him Granite after last night, but Emily doubted he wanted a callsign so closely related to losing comrades. Still, it was a compliment, anyway.

Several were able to walk alongside the RoughRiders to their base, weapons powered down, but everyone needed to have their electronics looked at, because the gun-cams were still offline even now. The RoughRiders didn't need to know that, though. Not yet.

A flap on the tent behind them went open. Several people, including Leutnant Topeni, who Emily exchanged nods with, walked out and down the opposite direction, towards the medical tents. Gazing at the crude structures put up in record times, it made her think for a second. _Thousands of years later and we're still taking whatever we can and sticking it up in the air high enough to make a tent out of it. Some things never change_.

Someone else exited the tent, looking towards the two of them. "The LC is expecting you next.," said the clipboard-clutching aide, and hustled back inside.

Leutnant-Colonel. Basically, a Colonel. One meager rank shy. Depending on who you were with, people either called them just a Colonel or an LC, but some people kept the stick pretty far up there and insisted on the full name. _He probably ran the show while Hansen was off-planet,_ she thought to nobody but herself. _But chances are as soon as he saw the HPG transmissions coming off-planet by now, he would be hauling ass back._

The hubbub went from a light drone to a dull roar as several hundred square meters of circuitry, tables, monitors, pick-me-up drinks, chatter, and sweat enveloped them inside the tent.

"Not here. Come to my tent," said a voice to their left, standing next to the aide. Aides. Many aides. _Holy crap this is a lot of help_ , she thought, exchanging a similar expression with Danek. The man immediately walked out, slightly taller than her but shorter than Danek, and everyone followed. She didn't really get a good look at him other than the slight hunch in his posture, making him appear more sinister than he probably was. _Probably just the cockpits of his youth doing that,_ Emily thought. Everyone was looking at them now as they passed a row of tents. He lifted the flap of a smaller one and nodded at everyone in his staff which included one oddly-dressed…priest looking fellow.

The monk-like fellow waited outside as all the military types went in.

Far more cozy looking than the electric boogaloo in the other tent, several small books were arranged on the very-temporary-looking shelves, next to his MechWarrior gear. Neurohelmet, Cooling vest, holster with a needler that shaved long thin pieces of plastic off a solid block as it's ammunition. Something any MechWarrior pilot prays he or she never has to resort to. _Wonder what he drove?_ She wondered.

He turned and sat on his cot and nodded at the other man. "This is my XO, Hauptmann-Kommandant Steven Dusselhoff. I'm Leutnant-Colonel Franklin LaPointe. You can just call us HP and LC, respectively. They all exchanged handshakes.

"Major Emily Wright of the 1st Iron Coyotes. This is Lieutenant Martin Danek, and our contract liaison, Sho-sa Jin Jonnusuke. You can just call us Dirk and Clothesline, respectively. He goes by Kaze." That got a laugh from both of the RoughRiders.

"Like…Kamikaze? Divine wind? I like it. I go by Whisper. Got it in my old scout lance days." said LaPointe. The wrinkles in his leather-looking face made him look older than he probably was, and greying hair with a gravelly voice gave him an air of a wise old grandpa about him. He waved a casual hand to Dusselhoff. "He has a lot of names, but generally answers to Sphinx. Taking a longer glance and noticing the front part of the tall Dusselhoff's nose no longer there, she might have had an idea where he got it. _Ouch._

Their initial friendliness had relaxed both Coyotes a little bit, but Emily was wondering what his intentions were. "So you two are responsible for all the problems we've had down south? Sent many a good man and woman home in a casket, along with their personal effects." _Hoo boy, here we go_ , she thought, bristling.

"Just working a contract, LC. You know how it is." She offered no response out of her face for that one. "Based on what happened at the Langley plant down south we have reason to believe our employers might have committed a war crime and caught us with it as well. Now it's happening all over the planet. We both lost people in the last seven weeks of fighting. Losing people to crazy bombings that have nothing to do with our contract without any warning, however…" she just trailed off at that for effect. "I was told your contract lawyer is on-planet. I don't know enough about MRB law, and this seems like a gray area, so I wanted your advice on this during the cease-fire."

He paused for a moment, staring at the floor in thought. Finally, he returned her gaze. "Lawyers, plural. We take our contracts very seriously, Major. Our reputation is everything. You're nuts to be asking for legal advice from the opposite side of the conflict, by the way. And yes, one of them is on-planet and outside this tent. We brought him here to talk to you. Please bring him in, Sphinx."

With a nod and a few words spoken through the lifted tent flap, another man came through. This one wasn't exactly dressed for battle but wasn't dressed for the courtroom either. With what could be considered business-casual for the planet, including some form a brown...toga? He stepped in with an air of prudence about him.

"Mr. Caine, if you would," said the HP, gesturing towards the man who looked more like he belonged in a monastery of ancient Terra than in a courtroom.

"Yes, well, first my condolences on what happened." His voice was a bit haughty, but nonetheless commanded the room. "From what we could tell from the gun-cams until they went _conveniently_ offline, there were your proverbial men-in-black rushing across the street towards the storage tank building for the various chemicals used to treat the water. Highly volatile stuff, I'm told. I'm sure the companies building this will be facing their own class-action suits later today. If not, I'd be happy to start them. We lost some good people as well. Anyway, within three minutes of them entering, the gun cams go dark, infantry report they leave, and whaboom, global crisis on our hands." The LC looked off to the side, slightly annoyed at what was said. Like the lawyer had said something he shouldn't have.

 _Their cams went silent too? At the same time? What the hell kind of crazy black ops shit is going on around here?_

"Now, with regards to your contract, the Mercenary Review Board generally views things that qualify as a war crime as grounds for ending the contract prematurely without tarnishing your record. There were extenuating circumstances, in this case the fact that your unit was way too close to the explosion. Based on your performance in the last two months or so, anyone would argue in your favor that had you actually _known_ what was about to happen, there's no way you would have let yourself be put in that position. Do you agree?" 

Emily nodded. "The general rule was we didn't commit to something that didn't result in capturing something of yours. We couldn't exactly afford to slug it out with your men. They're good shots and good pilots."

Dusselhoff nodded. "Most of the ones you fought down south on Gimli were at least somewhat experienced, with some veterans in the mix to show how it's done. And some of our very best sprinkled in.

Emily immediately remembered. "The _Otscout_ pilot," she said, involuntarily.

LaPointe nodded, grinning. "Goes by Rapier. Fancies himself as a swashbuckling pirate. He's my son. Leutnant Jean LaPointe. He's a card, all-right. One hundred twenty-four recorded jumps in a row without losing his balance. It's an Inner-Sphere record, I'm told. Old Sarna Interstellar Record was One hundred fifteen. There's a pool going on when that streak ends and becomes an official record in the RoughRiders. Personally, I'd rather it just keeps going forever." _Might be his only son,_ she thought.

Emily blinked twice, then smiled, deciding to sheathe her pride. "I recall two of those jumps when he helped gut my _Jenner_. In and out before we could even get a weapons lock." LaPointe laughed aloud at that one, slapping his knee like and old country boy recounting a fishing story that included a fish that got bigger with every telling.

J.J. joined in, bowing slightly to the older men. "I apologize for butting in, but we were talking about the state of the contract between the Combine and the Coyotes." Everyone's face dropped a hair, being pulled away from swapping war stories, but got back on topic. J.J. Continued. "From what I can summarize from six-and-a-half-dozen pages of their contract, as well as a five-page addendum for general instructions for myself as their liaison, I can confirm they acted in accordance with the entire contract, up until the cease-fire. They were not aware of the impending bombing raid, nor was I given any instruction or warning of the raid.

"The sheer number of raids with the possibility of more to come make it seem like a form of planetary hostage-taking, with the risk of genocide on a scale of up to a billion, if all water supplies were cut." He held up a hand before the two senior Coyotes could protest. "That being said, the phrase you use… 'extenuating circumstances?' definitely applies, as the objective had technically been completed before the cease-fire. In this case the destruction of the plant. The responsibility of so many plants being at risk does not fall on your shoulders, Major Wright-san."

The priest-lawyer nodded. "There are plenty of MRB clauses for general common-sense cases and humanitarian action, assuming the contract itself is fulfilled prior to that. Even if they didn't actually destroy it themselves, they helped put events in motion that lead to its destruction. So they get credit for it."

Emily scowled at nothing in particular, thinking to herself. "You said another force, small and on-foot, went into the storage building. They were not my people, obviously. They used us like meat shields and then didn't care whether we lived or died to provide the distraction. I believe my liaison when he says he didn't know about them either." Then after a split-second, decided to cough it up. "And our own gun cams went dark about the same time as yours, apparently. Right about when they showed up."

 _That_ got the other half of the tent's attention. Everyone's eyes involuntarily flickered or widened or blinked in some shape or form to indicate they didn't know.

"Oooooo…..kay…." said their lawyer slowly. That thickens the soup…a lot. That means whatever 3rd party is involved here would benefit from both sides' problems." A pause while he looked up at the light at the top of the tent. "Things are about to get reeeeeally political."


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

April 22nd, 3025

House of Parliament, Mach 'Beh

Suk II

"How off was timing on the virus?" said Orsula Alvarez, frowning at one of her nondescript agents while seated at her large office desk. The man didn't blink.

"In some cases, the cams went offline as late as thirty seconds before the attack, but over seventy-five percent of the raids had a successful virus before our teams went in. The plants at Bust, New Cameron, and Langley are the ones we suspect might have commandos recorded visually. We aborted two northern raids, due to a virus that failed completely. No one was detected."

"Any idea which units might have spotted them?" She leaned back in her oversized leather chair, the frown now becoming a scowl as she accepted the possibilities of this.

"It seems almost entirely to be RoughRider gun cams. We have two Planetary Militia tanks that caught "movement," he said, making the universally-known air quotes with his fingers. "Those units have already been recalled and the cam footage destroyed."

She studied her fingernails for a moment, leaning on her other hand while pondering further. _She does that when she's stressed,_ he thought to himself. The awkward moment between the two of them seemed to stretch on for a week while a large digital holographic clock ticked away the seconds, complete with the sound of an old grandfather clock.

Finally, breaking the silence, she asked "What about these Iron Jackals? Did they break their contract after the raid on Langley?"

The man, slightly overweight but no doubt in shape enough to take out several people tailing him, said "Iron Coyotes, madam. A good chunk of them got caught in the blast, and then they stopped shooting at each other and walked together towards a RoughRider base. They might just pack up and leave, but I think there's less than a ten percent chance of that. They seem like an impressionable bunch. Perhaps they can be re-hired to…" he cleared his throat. "Augment? Our Planetary Militia."

As the head Minister of Safekeeping, a part of their Parliament dedicated to localized defense and allowed a more fast-acting response in times of crisis, she had a decent amount of control when it came to contracting mercenaries. These were busy times, with the planet being raided almost at a rate of almost once per year. She was instrumental in hiring the RoughRiders and helped negotiate the terms.

She stood, her tan ceremonial toga-like dress protesting at being wrapped around her so snugly. The agent, doing what most men do every few seconds, quickly wondered if "something" was going to pop out. She leaned forward with both hands on her desk and gave the man a view he would savor for the rest of his life, staring him down angrily. "Two things. Number one is the destruction of any more gun cam intel on the commandos. This is alpha one el numero uno priority. Anything it takes. I can always move things around to make it possible, but the clock is ticking. The second is to find every tech that was assigned to help plant the virus, whether they knew about it or not. Scour every log for every vehicle and 'mech, and if someone was involved, even by accident, find them. Use their families as leverage if we must. I don't care."

A few strands of her long, straight black hair in front to drape between her breasts.

"Yes, m'lady. Will that be all?" It took the willpower of a few stubborn Greek deities for the man to keep his eyes locked with hers.

"One more thing. Let's get in contact with these Coyotes. Offer them a standard garrison contract for what their forces are worth. We'll dump whole debacle on the RoughRiders if it comes to it, but for now let's just say investigations are underway, and it was obvious they were used as cannon fodder. Offer a severance on their current contract if you must. We need to get their 'mechs, and anyone else's that might have caught a glimpse of the commandos, under our roof so we can get that footage." She stood up straight, causing him to resist the urge to raise his eyes to stay with hers.

"Aye, m'lady." He bowed, breaking eye contact and walked briskly out of the room. Closing the door, he made his way downtown to a local all-hours bar that played loud music and had a smoke machine going almost every part of the day. A great place to pass the word along to his men.

April 22, 3025

Firebase Yankee

Suk II

Mr. Caine, the toga lawyer, was the first to break the awkward silence. "As far as the MRB is concerned you're in the clear. You could take off from this planet and take what you got paid already."

LaPointe could tell from Emily's expression that there was a better chance of him becoming Lord of a brand-new Star League. "They have their own score to settle. It's why they're here, Mr. Caine. Right, Major?"

Emily and Danek both exchanged nods. "We were doing just fine on our own with minimal losses when these bastards decided to get in the mix. Whoever's at the top, bankrolling them, is who I want to pay the butcher's bill for my people."

Understanding nods circled around the room. Emily could tell LaPointe was weighing his options. She might even get the offer to get hired, but there might be too much bad blood between her and the RoughRiders she'd be working with, having a few of them and ransomed a great deal more.

Almost as if reading her mind, LaPointe shook his head. "We couldn't take you in, ourselves. You could try the Planetary Militia. They're half-decent, but generally don't have the hardware available. That's why we're were hired."

"So, what would you recommend at this point?" Emily's gaze got serious, staring down the LC.

A few moments pause, then the LC pursed his lips as if he'd caught an idea and was considering it. He then nodded, and said "You're looking for answers, first. My first two guesses are whoever's responsible is either living on this planet, or somewhere in Combine space. Since you're already here, you might as well start here. Try to get with the Planetary Militia, even if at arm's length at first. They can probably help you get parts to restore your remaining 'mechs. You might even find a contract. I'll vouch for you. That'll go a long way. Especially with our recent history. Maybe you'll get a chance to round up some of these commandos sneaking around the planet. There's still plenty of targets for them to go after."

Everyone nodded, including J.J. He wanted answers too, but for different reasons. Lots of people wanted answers. It was time to find out who else wanted them as badly as she did.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

April 22nd, 3025

Raymond Bache Memorial Spaceport

Mach' Beh

Suk II

 _I've got to get out of here. I've got to get out of here. I've got to get out of here._ Ron Walker kept repeating his mantra in his head as he stood in line at customs at the Spaceport, just on the northern edge of Mach 'Beh. He kept his head low and his hands in his pockets, despite the amazing view any spaceport offered.

Since the vast majority of dropships were of the cargo-carrying variety, they remained parked along their various pads across the ferrocrete. Endless fire-blackened patches peppered a highway of gray that seemed to go on forever. Reinforced ferrocrete girders helped deflect the blasts from ships coming and going and let the ships nestle for whatever business of the day was coming their way.

Many of these mostly spherical and egg-shaped ships were making cargo runs, from one hundred ton battlemechs or various parts to keep any of them running, to crates of sparkling "filtered" water to be sent to the more posh estates around the Inner Sphere. It all depended on what the ships were customized for, and what kind of cargo was available.

 _I'd be happy curling up in a box, in someone's storage closet on the dirtiest, nastiest freighter on that tarmac if it meant I got out of here sooner._ _Hell, give me a spacer suit and strap me to the outside of the nose if you have to._ To him, it felt like the guards up ahead at the customs office seemed determined to make everyone in line wait as long as physically possible.

The 'mech tech, or at least up until about two days ago, knew what he had done had helped lead to the deaths of so many. He wasn't even sure exactly what he did. He normally worked the upper-halves of the 'mechs for the RoughRiders. Weapons, electronics, gyros that kept the walking war machines upright and in-tune with their pilot's senses, you name it. He did all manner of things in that area. _Was damn good at it, too. High marks all around. Wasn't afraid to pull overtime to get jobs done._

The line crept along at about the speed of a minute hand on an ancient gear-driven watch. He continued to keep as neutral of a profile as he knew how to. His mind went back to the senior tech who had given him the order. "Just replace these old couplings underneath the cockpits. Should decrease the lag between the neurohelmet and the weapons by about two percent. Nothing to write home about, but it'll get them a little closer to the same condition they came off the assembly line in."

If an army marched on its stomach, a 'mech marched on its parts. And parts wore down over time. Techs with less experience might twist a myomer bundle the wrong way, putting a kink in a 'mech's muscles somewhere. An actuator might grind down within any part of an arm, leg, in some cases even a hand. Moving parts are everywhere on a battlemech of any size, and they all need the same attention and care a tech can give.

Generally, someone piloting a 'mech winds up piloting it for a while, so they become attached to it in many ways. Some want to know every minor detail that gets changed in their 'mech. Some don't. But either way, with a tech's full schedule in a time of conflict, it's almost impossible to get that information to them. So, the techs will usually stick with the most important stuff when telling the pilot.

 _It had to have been those couplings. They looked completely different, even though they fit in perfectly. They could have had the program or virus or whatever it was that infec—"_ his thoughts were interrupted at the sink by a pat on the arm, and a sharp pain there as someone passed by, already halfway to the exit. _Shit._

Someone got to him. He had no idea how long he had left to live. It could be one of those kinds of poisons that takes several hours and makes it look like natural causes, or a heart attack, or anything else he'd already seen on the cool espionage holovids. It could be a few seconds from now. All he knew is someone got him before he could get away. His hands started to shake. _From the poison?_ Walker wasn't sure if it was him being in shock from knowing this was his last day above ground or whatever he was pricked with.

He looked again at the exit. Whoever got him was already long gone. He wagered he didn't have long, and the message he sent back at the HPG station was likely intercepted anyway. He decided to enjoy however long he had taking in that view he'd denied himself while waiting in line.

Walking to the glass near one of the passenger boarding gates, he was treated to a _Mule_ takeoff. Looking more like a giant metal melon sliced in half that grew big engines out of the bottom, the light and sound created, even from so many kilometers away from the glass, lit up the horizon. Massive clouds of smoke rolled up from underneath it, deflected by the blast shields.

Within seconds, the more than eleven thousand tonner spat at gravity and what most people would say was "good common sense" and rose on jets of flame that drew the attention of anyone who had a pulse. As it climbed higher and higher, the massive engines created a second sun brighter than Suk itself, at least for now. Walker put his hand on the tinted glass, mesmerized by it despite years of seeing the exact same thing so many times before.

The ship climbed into the blue-grey clouds hanging low over the spaceport, creating a nice hole for people to see the blue-green sky of high noon. The smoke slowly rose as if to fill the gap left behind by the ship.

And then the seizure came. And another. And another. Until there was nothing.

April 22nd 3025

Jack's Rack Shack

Outside Firebase Zulu

Suk II

 _"Best ribs on the planet,"_ the billboards said up and down the highway between Firebases Yankee and Zulu. Needless to say, the location and such a bold claim meant the modest restaurant was so packed every day with off-duty RoughRiders that the owners brought in help from the big city with lots of chairs and tables outside.

The waiter motioned to one of the techs across the hazy room, making eye contact. A small portable phone wiggled in his hand over his head. The tech froze momentarily, then slowly got up from his table full of laughing friends and shuffled over to the front desk. Slowly putting it up to his ear, he heard a garbled voice. "Corporal Takashi Utamo?" The voice croaked.

"No, who is this?" He answered meekly.

"Quit fucking around, Takashi. Excuse yourself and go out the front door. Say its administrative business or something. There's a hover taxi outside. Get in it and don't ask questions." The young Corporal had so many gambling debts it was a wonder his CO didn't know about it yet. And apparently it was time to pay the bill one more time.

"Bullshit. I already did what you wanted." He slammed his finger on the "end" button of the phone as hard as he could, almost breaking it. He walked outside anyway, needing some air, and saw the taxi waiting amongst all the other vehicles. A man with an old-fashioned Gatsby hat in the driver's seat casually pulled out a needler with a very large clip sticking out of the bottom and nodded at Takashi. No one bothered to look, most were half or all-the-way drunk, and there were other cabs there.

Takashi merely shook his head and slowly got in the cab, which drove away to the north, to pay the rest of what he owed with his skills. Living through it was optional.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

April 25nd, 3025

Camp Bow Wow

Gimli Continent

Suk II

The reunion back at the camp had been bittersweet, at best. Heartbreaking at worst. When they got close enough for radio contact, everyone seemed relieved at the other end. When everyone arrived in person, almost all the survivors of what had been called "The Langley Affair" had nearly collapsed out of physical and mental exhaustion.

The heat had been a cruel, unwanted companion, with steam drifting through the jungle along the paths they previously stomped through. It seemed like the mist from the early morning dew evaporating carried the whispers of unavenged ghosts. Mist seeking justice for what had been done. Every hover truck that displaced the heavy steam only saw it gather again to haunt the next truck behind them. It was if they blamed their former comrades more than their enemies. _Why didn't we have the right to know what was going to happen?_ Emily thought upon arrival.

Any good Soldier, Dragoon, Marine, Aerospacer, or whatever your calling was knew that "you just knew what you knew and went with that." But to finally get a good chunk of the overall picture after it happened really made anyone who served anyone else begin to question the point of it all. Emily was certainly questioning herself. Her ability to lead, her choices. Why they got into this business for themselves in the first place.

The gruesome foursome was now down to three, and she still wasn't sure who was going to take Kang's place as XO. For now, it only seemed reasonable that it should go to Pearl, the Mother Hen of this gaggle. It didn't help she wasn't nearly as war-weary as the other two were, so it gave her a chance to warm up as well as give Emily and Martin a rest. Martin didn't really care as much for top-level echelon stuff. He was content with leading his lance and that was it. But the ongoing traces of a relationship between Emily and Pearl needed to be addressed, to avoid the dissention in the ranks that comes with the rumors of favoritism.

More things that came with warfighting that Emily just didn't have the energy for, right now.

J.J., their liaison, was almost completely silent on the entire two-day ride back to camp. He had to get a ride on one of the cargo hovertrucks they got on loan from the RoughRiders, in exchange for some of their captured equipment back that was still at the camp. He offered what was left of his _Panther_ as scrap or spare parts, but Emily politely refused. She'd find a way to get it back up and running again.

For now, she agreed to leave the surviving 'mechs at Firebase Yankee, under RoughRider guard. There was a side-bet between her and Martin that some of the 'mechs will have some kind of graffiti on it by the time they got back. She didn't blame anyone. The wounds of fighting each other were still too fresh, merely days old. Everyone was doing their job on either side, but one doesn't get over the loss of their comrades so quickly, if ever. Hopefully nothing happened between the Coyotes

When they all pulled in and shut down their fans to rest on the semi-soft dirt. Emily got out of the truck and called for everyone who wasn't on watch. The newly refurbished _Mongoose_ stood over them currently powered-down. Rechristened as the "Battle Maiden," to honor the pilot's life it had helped take over a month ago. It's new pilot, Torres, stood with his neurohelmet under his arm, now freshly recalibrated to his new 'mech. He smiled sadly at Emily as everyone came from the other bivouacs spread out over a six kilometer area. "She's ready, Major. Ready as she'll ever be. Still feels like Maiden's there when I took it for a test drive yesterday." He said, wearing only a pair of shorts and boots, his cooling vest already tucked inside the cockpit.

Every MechWarrior had different habits when it came to getting to their 'mech and getting battle-ready as fast as possible. Some had even stranger superstitions. Being in the 'mech responsible for killing one of your comrades, friends, sometimes even loved ones can be spooky enough that even dispossessed MechWarriors wouldn't even touch it. They would rather have broken wings and not fly, than fly with fresh new wings they thought were cursed. Some people just needed time to grieve properly or find themselves again, before something else came along they could take over.

Most MechWarriors never even got a second chance to pilot again. Torres knew his opportunity was rare, so he sucked it up and took it. He would have rather had the _Griffin,_ but it still wasn't ready, and beggars can't be choosers.

Emily simply offered a smile and an "I'll bet. Excuse me, Corporal," to Torres and went to her tent to sit down for a minute before everyone arrived. She threw her gear in the corner to finally read the folded up, sweat-stained pages of what one of the RoughRider techs was kind enough to print out for her. The list of repairs needed to make her company whole again.

 _Valkyrie_ VLK-QF ID:721 replace left arm, left torso, repair sensors, repair standard gyro, repair left leg, replace armor on everything but the right arm.

 _Shadow_ Hawk SDH-SD ID 722: Replace heat sink (left arm, left leg, center torso, left torso, right torso) repair communications antennas (head) repair jump jet (rear, left and right torso), replace armor—she didn't bother with that laundry list, it was basically all of it. At least all the weapons were functioning.

 _Javelin_ JVN-10F ID 723: _Tarzan's 'mech. I told him to get off the roof._ Repair Sensors. _Well that's something at least._

 _Urbanmech UM-R60_ ID 724: Replace left arm repair, left leg, repair sensors, replace small laser. Complete armor replacement. _I'm sure she's fine, but everyone's starting to think of Nymph as the scrappy big sister of the pack. Hope nothing else happens to her._

 _Spider_ SDR-5D ID 725: Replace jump jet, replace left arm, replace upper arm actuator, replace lower arm actuator, replace hand actuator, replace myomer bundles, left arm, replace armor, left arm, left torso, left torso (rear), repair sensors. _Coulda gone worse_ , she thought, considering the spider was one of the lightest 'mechs in her force and thus the least protected. Ironic that a 'mech with 8 jump jets had damage to none, while many others lost as many as half of them in that explosion.

Falcon FLC-4N ID 727: Repair 180 fusion engine, repair left arm, repair right arm, replace jump jet (rear left torso). Entire armor replacement. Inspect/replace cockpit parts as needed.

She avoided reading the last mech, knowing what was there. The other two _Fire Javelins_ were virtually untouched. With the addition of Mother Hen's "Flock" Lance, including Hen's _Trebuchet, Firefly_ and two _Firebees_ , plus the _Mongoose_ back in working order, still gave the Coyotes a serviceable force to offer someone on-planet. The MRB frowned on any mercenary group offering their services with less than a lance of four 'mechs, armor, artillery, or just about anything mechanized in general. You could go solo or less than a lance off the books, but that was generally stuff out in the Periphery, the edges of the Inner Sphere, where under-the-table work was generally more accepted.

But that might leave you with a knife in your back. There weren't many resources available to enforce most of the common laws seen throughout this portion of the galaxy, when you were so far from the center of human civilization.

She left the last 'mech unread and went outside. Just about everyone had arrived, a few more to go. She looked over at pearl, her hands behind her back, her cooling vest also stowed away in her _Treb's_ cockpit. Emily always wondered how people were able to get their vests on once you were already sitting in your cockpit, surrounded by controls on all sides. She'd seen some people standing up or hunched over putting it on, but for her it only slowed her down. It helped that Pearl was almost a head shorter than most people these cockpits were designed for. A whole head shorter than Emily, as well.

She had even suggested they try a rendezvous in her the cockpit of her _Shadow Hawk,_ but needless to say they were unsuccessful. Though savoring the memory of that attempt and all the bumps and bruises that came with it she watched her soon-to-be-XO rally everyone up with a little more hustle than before, now that their CO and paycheck-signer-in-chief was in view once more.

Walking up to Pearl's side, her hands also behind her back as a gesture of mutual respect, she asked "How many are left?" Emily could see it in her eyes she wanted nothing more than to throw those arms around her. _She could have lost me_.

"Five more coming from the southern loot bivouac. ETA three minutes."

"You sure you're up for this?" Emily asked softly.

"You know I was more ambitious than Danek ever wanted to be. Besides, I can't let you get too far ahead of me, now can I?" They both smiled sadly at that one. _Too soon,_ she thought. Pearl had had more time to make peace with what Emily was asking her before they saw each other again in person. She was going from watching three other people to upwards of forty, minus the handful of techs that were caught in the explosion. _And…Rhys. Chrome. Our buddy. The funny one._ _None of us were that good at being the funny one if he wasn't around._

Her mind wandered for a moment as the sound of the last hovertruck coming from the south reached their ears. _Could we open ourselves up for someone else to enter their little pack? Could they? Would it feel right? It sure didn't feel good right now. I feel like an asshole for even thinking about it. We haven't even had a proper sendoff._ Emily perked up slightly as she had a better idea what the evening will hold for the Coyotes. They had earned it.

Finally, as the last of the men and women gathered and she was able to address them all at once, she paced in front for a bit as Pearl looked on from the side. The Coyotes had established a rough box-shaped formation on a regular basis, like most military formations go. Even the techs, their doctor, the admins, and a couple of medics fell in with them, though off to one side. Despite their losses, their numbers were close to the same as when she first addressed them on Hesperus II.

"Everyone, we have good news and bad news. First, the bad. Everyone wants the bad news first. We lost several good people on our last mission." She proceeded to give the rundown on how everything went for the next few minutes. Everyone present already knew who had died, but to hear the full story from their commander was a totally different beast. Emily decided to lead off with the biggest punch and soften it from there. "And yes, we're down six techs, one _Enforcer_ , and your XO, Rhys Kang, was killed in the explosion. Our friend," she said, gesturing to Pearl and Martin, "And several of yours from what I've learned. They will all be missed and will be given equally fair severance packages to their families. That's the next thing on my list, and nothing else official happens until then.

"Nymph, Ifrit, and McCintock, now known as callsign Granite, are in the field hospital at Firebase Yankee. They are not being held prisoner and will be returned to active duty status when their injuries heal. McCintock might have permanent spinal damage, but it's possible the docs can save him. Keep your fingers crossed for good news. They've probably finished surgery by now, and we'll know how he's doing soon.

"As to what the hell happened to our contract, and what happens next. Our official contract with the Combine is now cancelled, based on circumstantial evidence we've compiled." She gestured to J.J., who was stone-faced off to the side of their formation. Out of respect, he also stood at parade rest along with the rest of the Coyotes. "Captain J.J., or Sho-sa Junnosuke as his proper name and rank, was with us in the fighting. In the thick of it. He helped rescue trapped survivors and walked his _Panther_ into the ground to stay with us during the march to Firebase Yankee. He was far too close to the blast to have known about it prior to the engagement. If there's _any_ thought of the possibility of him being complicit in 'The Langley Affair,' kill it right now. His word is as good as gold to me at this point.

She continued pacing. "Whatever commandos are out there, Combine or otherwise, knocked out over a half a dozen water treatment plants and killed over a thousand people, including six of ours. Them, and whoever hired them or ordered their actions are the ones responsible. After we honor the dead and get our company back up to fighting strength, we'll start looking for answers of our own. I promise you that." Enthusiastic nods went around the formation, including J.J.

Emily finally stood still and turned to them. _Whew, that part's over._ She took a deep breath. "Now for the good news. There isn't nearly as much, but we're mercenaries, and we fight with what we have. I've been told there's an envoy from the Planetary Militia en route to offer us a standard garrison contract based on our remaining forces . More than likely it'll be closer to civilization, and the climate is slightly nicer than waking up with a Jinxy next to your sleeping bag." Almost everyone laughed at that, but she was sure one or two had less-than-nice experiences waking up with a dog-sized lizard that wasn't scared of humans yet staring them in the face.

"Since our old contract ended prematurely and under the possibility of our employer being guilty of a war crime, there are no bonuses per the contract. But Clothesline, Mother Hen, and I, have pooled together most of our cut from this contract to give you the same bonuses you were promised." This brought a chorus of cheers that would have shaken the windows at a spaceport, and Emily allowed herself this one guilty pleasure of letting it last a little longer than normal. Finally, she waved them to silence. "We can't guarantee this every time, because we'd like to go home with something in our pockets at the end of the day too after this garrison, but this will have to do for now."

"Coyotes, we've been through hell together in the last two months, and we've sure as hell earned some R&R, so here's what I propose. We all knew what we signed on for, and that any of us might not be standing here tomorrow, so let's enjoy tonight and toast our fallen brothers and sisters until we can't remember our own damn names!" She pulled out the hip flask she had hidden in her cargo pocket and held it high. _"Who's with me?"_

Almost half the group, including J.J. with a smile, pulled out whatever hooch they had on hand and held them up, while all of them let out the high-pitched howl of the coyote. Shortly after, as everyone began celebrating, Emily asked Martin and Pearl to join them in her tent as she pulled out the sheet of paper with the line _Enforcer ENF-4R ID:725. Total loss, recommend salvage all remaining parts_. Then they all tinked their flasks together to toast their friend to Valhalla. And howled. A lot.


	15. Chapter 14 (Act II)

**Chapter 15**

May 2nd, 3025

Above Kevilston

Suk II

Few things really beat the thrill of flying. It was even more fantastic when the wind from the VTOL's rotors was adding a nice breeze to the passengers of "Diana's Wish," a rather spacious private craft sent to pick up Emily and J.J. Another few hours of flying and the jungles of Gimli were far behind them.

They were passing above the 2nd largest city on the planet. Really the only place big enough to be called a city other than the capitol of Mach 'Beh. There were plenty of suburbs all around both cities, and plenty of smaller villages further out. Some even had their own water treatment plant. But if they didn't break one million people, their town's names weren't officially recognized as a city, and thus were still considered part of the larger city.

That didn't make the view any less impressive. The passenger hold was mostly empty except for them large and boxy and somewhat resembling what a _Huey_ from ancient Terra would look like. The doors were open on both sides which let the air in and gave them the chance to look out to the west.

Jungle was everywhere, but it contained threads of grey running through it, stretching on until the horizon, continuing even further towards the mining districts and mountain resorts poking out from just over the edge. Craggy, pointy-looking mountains jutted up from here, and it looked like the planet had grown a lower set of canine teeth along most of what they could see in the distance. Beyond was the continent of New Syria, with matching teeth on the opposite side of a large channel and even more jungle. Volcanic eruptions long before mankind ever settled in to the planet so many centuries ago had moved rich mineral veins closer to the surface to be extracted. The wind speed was lower on this planet than most, so the mountains hadn't been rounded down to make them more climbable.

Directly under them was a large expanse of grey, black, and various streams of color (mostly green) throughout the city. Emily and J.J. were clearing it on the northern side, though looking back the streams of traffic of people going about their everyday lives was visible as small metal ants traveling across a net of ferrocrete on a bed of green beneath it. Many roads were elevated, allowing trees to grow underneath and in many cases, around the highways.

Giant trunks, possibly half a millennium old at this point, were still able to hold their own weight as they twisted around buildings built in their shadows. It gave the feeling that the entire city was being hugged by these green monsters. The artistry of Kevilston from this height made it look like the city came first, and the trees weaved their way around as they grew.

This city was known throughout the Inner Sphere for its architecture, and many younger colonies and cities throughout often mimicked the pattern. Over twenty-five million people lived in what was nicknamed the Keviltrees. Here the quality of life was higher than most metropoli that had even more access to better health care and technology. It had a lot more traffic accidents though, typically at low speeds as tourists often rubbernecked the views only to gently bump into the vehicle in front of them, mesmerized.

Emily didn't want to turn her eyes away until the VTOL sadly pulled the city out of sight. She was compensated by an even grander view up ahead, as the capitol of Mach 'Beh came into view. It was an absolute giant, with even some of the outer-most buildings being massive and often cylindrical in shape. Her VTOL began to gain more altitude just to clear these "smaller" buildings that rose higher than the first skyscrapers of the 20th century. The ones in the center were probably twice as tall. Construction sites half as tall as the outer buildings were all around the edge of the city. One had a bright pink billboard flashing "Who needs the country when you can see it all from your home in the clouds?"

The view directly below them was blurred by the thick, rapidly-displaced air of the fans on either side of Diana's Wish behind them, as well as one beneath them to the front. It made the buildings seem to vibrate by themselves, then slowly melt across the streets and come back together as the craft passed over. She couldn't make out the tallest buildings up ahead, mainly due to some of the light noon-day smog obscuring the skyline, but they nonetheless continued upwards. Despite technological advances in transportation, the internal combustion engine was still a thing, even though the fuels were much cleaner and the amount of pollution in the sky of such a massive city was even less than 21st century levels, when alternate fuels were just starting to come out.

 _I'd hate to be the guy handling all the permits for solar panels on these beasts_ , Emily though to herself. Like Kevilston's overall design looking like a group of large vines had overgrown a scale model of the city, Mach 'Beh had similar architecture, but in a more metallic, less twisty variety. Various tubes connected most of the larger buildings towards the center like giant ropes, allowing transport from building to building without having to spend an hour going up and down, and also giving every building more support. Which allowed them to build things as high as they did.

The central metropolis of the Capitol resembled the tallest rodent cage in the universe, assuming the rodents were the size of humans. The entire silhouette of the skyline ahead of her looked like one big cat's cradle laid on top of a bed of popsicle sticks with needles sticking out of the top.

Traveling by VTOL was the way to go in this town, in a city of over one hundred million. The entire town appeared to be the nest of a colony of metallic bees, floating along lanes of traffic up and down the city, while others went in their own circular patterns from rooftop to rooftop. Or in some cases, rooftop to the side of a building, where various landing pads jutted out in every direction. Had these bees not been buzzing around, blowing some of the pollution further away from the city and into the jungle to "pollinate" the trees hungry for carbon dioxide, Emily guessed this city would have a much darker sky than it did.

While slightly gaudy in its appearance, it was nonetheless impressive for a first-timer. Emily was simply in awe. She said nothing for the last ten minutes while taking in these views. Even by air, it still took that long "as the crow flies" to reach the downtown area. She also suspected the pilot of their VTOL was instructed to "go slow" to allow them to take in the glory of their planet. J.J. was about as bored as you could imagine, somehow. Finally, he nudged her with his elbow, speaking loudly into the microphone connected to his headset. "Down there, Wright-san." She looked at where he pointed, which was a building far shorter in height than the other downtown buildings, but stouter and more square-like, like an ancient Terran cathedral or mosque. Only twice the height of the ancient ones.

"Parliament Hall, I think." He shouted. Emily simply nodded and stared. J.J. had obviously been around a little bit longer than anyone in the Coyotes, so he was just a little more used to this kind of thing.

Over both of their headsets, a voice from the front chimed in. "The PM asked me to give you a loop around the city first. Want one? You'd better be strapped in first." Emily enthusiastically said, "Hell yeah!" and the ship banked left to allow them a view directly over their own mid-day shadows, wherever those were. _Somewhere down there,_ she thought. _Really wish Pearl could have come on this ride._ As her new XO, it meant they would be apart more during official business like this. One of them had to hold the fort down. As the VTOL circled outside the lanes of traffic below them, both on the ground and above it, she realized how loud this town could actually get with all the vehicles in every direction.

 _How did people even have a conversation in a town like this if you weren't inside_? She wondered. Then she remembered how hot it normally got, and probably figured if they weren't on some nature hike, they were probably indoors. It seemed most people were indoors, anyway. At least up here it seemed pretty comfortable, but she knew better. She had sweat her ovaries off for about two months straight. She probably drank as much water as it took to keep five people hydrated on some other more temperate planets.

After their loop, which basically showed more of the same from this height, they came down onto one of the landing pads of Parliament Hall. People were coming and going from this place even faster than most others, and the two of them quickly fell into a pace behind their greeter. Almost everyone here seemed to wear some variation of a ceremonial Roman toga. Some opted for dresses. _Probably more comfortable than my sweaty tank top and shorts, and I probably stink to high hell by now. Am I really coming in to negotiate a contract like this?_ J.J. wasn't much better off. He was probably thinking something similar, because he wound up asking the question first to their guide. "Is there a place we can take a shower before we meet with such high-ranking officials?"

The guide, a short, arguably tiny woman, whose own toga would probably only qualify as a top or a bottom for Emily, grinned widely. "Yes, I will take you there now."

This must have been a common practice on this planet, especially for off-worlders coming to negotiate business deals or political disputes between neighbors, because they had a nice facility dedicated to just that. And some kind of a machine that washed and dried their clothes and had it hanging out and ready for them within five minutes, sans stink and fortunately not any smaller than before.

The feeling after a cool shower on a hot day and feeling two months of grime just roll off your naked body, and putting on clean, dry socks was no doubt _the_ best feeling one could experience. _Ahh…better than SEX_ , she thought, sighing loudly and not caring who heard it. J.J. simply smiled at her and was far better at containing his emotions, but when the eyebrows went up to his hairline and the eyes closed in pure relief as he slipped his own socks on, Emily simply giggled. "Don't try to hide it, J.J. I won't tell anyone. Best feeling in the world, right? I feel _kilos_ lighter."

He laughed. A short one, but still the first one she'd heard out of him in two months, despite the now-threesome's attempts at trying. Even a few pranks only got a smile and nothing more out of him.

All refreshed (and arguably twice as tired now that the grime came off), the two were escorted into a small but luxurious room. Despite the grandeur on the exterior of the building, most of the inside they had seen was all business. And hallways. Lots of hallways and doors. No doubt many meetings were going on in some of those rooms over…who knew what. _Construction was probably a big one_ , given the expansion on the edge of the city she noticed.

That thought was interrupted by the early arrival of two people, a man and a _whoa, what a woman,_ entering the room and sitting down immediately. Emily resisted the urge to stand as part of the greeting, but was informed when she arrived on-planet the custom for whoever came in the room was to match whatever position everyone else was already in. Having an open chair by a doorway helped reinforce that custom.

What struck her first was the unusual dress she wore, with the almost one-meter train behind it. A deep green, it was far more form-fitting around her waist than the various colors of brown togas Emily saw everyone else wear, including the man with her.

What struck her _second_ was how drop-dead gorgeous she was. She probably was at least ten years her senior, but looked like she could be almost half Pearl's age at thirty-six. _Pearl, you'd better be damn glad I found you first, or I'd be all over her like grease on myomer muscles._ Only a couple of lines in her face betrayed her true age, but Emily was probably sure she didn't cover that up to give her more of an air of authority and experience.

"Greetings, both of you, and thank you for coming. I am Orsula Alvarez, head of the Planetary Ministry of Safekeeping. Which is a fancy title for "I look after the Planetary Militia and any help it may receive on the side." She exchanged smiles at Emily, knowing she clearly won points by not sugar-coating her job right off the bat. "This is my aide, Jonah Orlianne. Goes by mister these days but he used to lead a company of infantry in the Militia before retiring early as a Captain to become my aide." Everyone simply nodded at each other as introductions finished across the room. _Not shaking hands is just weird, to me, but whatever,_ Emily thought.

"The Coyotes. Yes, I've heard. At first, I thought you were called the Jackals. That was embarrassing." She smiled and shook her head. "But your achievements have definitely caught our attention. I asked your contract liaison to come just so I can confirm in person that you are indeed available for a new contract. We'd like to get your assistance against…exactly what you have been doing the last two months, really. And there's one other thing…" She trailed off, standing up to look out the small window at the metallic rope tubes connected to some of their building.

"Yes?" Emily asked. _Oh, just get to the point already._ _You're totally doing this on purpose._

Alvarez turned, the bright Suk sun dancing off her dress, creating a shadow on the floor that seemed to reach out to Emily. _Nope, taken. Taaaakeennn_ …

"There's been a lot of unrest in the streets since the raids on our water facilities. We still have plenty of functioning treatment plants, but we still haven't located the commandos or their base of operations, or who they're working for. Intel suggests they might be Combine, but we can't be sure yet. Whoever they are, they caused a lot of stress on the people of our planet."

She crossed the thin carpet to sit next to them. The aura she projected felt three times more imposing next to Emily. "There's been increased looting, protests, you name it. Things haven't gone to the level of straight rioting yet, and our police has taken on extra recruits in the last week to help out. But the people…well large groups of them…just a nudge this way or that could start some serious problems, infrastructure damage, maybe even loss of life. More loss of life." She looked at the floor solemnly.

"Are you asking us to help with potential riot duty?" Emily asked indignantly. "Ma'am, with all due respect, that's not what the Coyotes are good for. We're guerrilla specialists and restricting ourselves to the streets of Mach 'Beh or Kevilston would be hiring us for maybe…twenty-five percent efficiency of what you're actually paying us for."

She nodded, looking to her aide. He spoke, with his deep, baritone voice making Emily wish she was bisexual. _Lots of sexual tension in this damn room, to be honest,_ she thought. _And what's with hair on this planet? Was everyone just born with perfect hair or what?_ "The other option we were thinking were more along the lines of helping guard the mining districts to the west and possibly the south. We've asked RoughRider garrison units to assist more directly in defending our water supply, which leaves openings for contracts for defending the industrial heart of our planet.

"Several guerrilla units of roughly the same size as yours have begun to make probing attacks near those districts. We understand that you took some heavy losses during the Langley Affair, and we're willing to help you get rebuilt with the necessary parts." 

_OK, now we're getting somewhere._

Emily answered, "I'm aware there are some rather large towns near those districts. Are people more upset near the districts than the treatment plants? I sure would be if it meant my hard work was going to waste."

"Not just their hard work, but their profits as well," Orsula added. "The main people coming forward to me with their concerns are the foremen and heads of these mining companies with government and private contracts to fill, and frankly they don't even feel comfortable having their people on the job if there's the potential for a cave-in due to a firefight and such. I know I wouldn't. You probably already know this, but hover tanks are a pretty significant export of this planet. We don't have much in the way of 'mech facilities, but Lucas Technologies has a decent-sized production facility between that district and the capitol, and the tariffs on exports for military hardware helps our economy greatly."

Emily knew about the facility and saw several LTV-4 hover tanks back at Firebase Yankee. Fifty tons each and carrying both a Particle Projection Cannon (or PPC) as well as an SRM with four tubes made it a sight to behold when a lance of them focused on one target. And it was fast, reaching top speeds of over one hundred kph. _Probably replacements for some of the vehicles they brought from off-world that we wound up capturing. Maybe they were going to use them to help catch us, since we bagged some of the slower tanks._

"The western districts sound more our speed, but we'll need a couple days and a dropship to move over there. I'll need access to some kind of a maintenance facility near the district, even if it's not a 'mech one, so my techs…what's left of my techs can get some proper repairs done. Up until now my people have done field repairs in the jungle using vines and trees to rig up pulley systems and done most of the lifting by hand. As of right now I have one fully-functional lance, two lances in various states of repair, and one lance of confiscated hover tanks from the RoughRiders. I might negotiate my hovers back to them in exchange for parts and/or a replacement 'mech, but right now that's what you're looking at.

"Our people are best on defense and performing raids on our own volition, which is what you'll be paying us for. We would focus primarily on perimeter defense and attempts to bait and capture hostile mercenary forces, but for now we're shorthanded. Instead of a higher contract price, I'm willing to negotiate some of that in exchange for direct support from the Planetary Militia." Emily held up a hand, delaying any interjections for now. Orlianne clearly looked like he had something he wanted to say.

"What I'm asking for are two lances of some of the heaviest tanks you can offer, or one heavy to assault 'mech lance, in exchange for a portion of our fee, or even close to all of it, and they answer to me during the contract. This allows me to set up traps to acquire enemy units to add to our own force. For the time being, we need an anvil for our hammer. Their risk will be minimized—the Coyotes are the ones that act as the bait. Our TO&E allows for that easily."

Emily shook her head. "Half the reason we came to Suk II on our previous contract was to grow our force, and now it's smaller than it started as, thanks to Langley. Help pay our operational costs and wages, help with our repair and rebuild and give us some big guns to entice people to surrender more quickly, _and_ give us…let's say ninety percent salvage rights, and we can defend your mining district. That alone should help with most of the unrest in that area. If you want us to do riot control, you're better off going with someone else."

J.J. was the first to break in, bowing in his seat. "I can confirm the 1st Iron Coyotes are no longer under contract. We consulted with the RoughRiders' lawyers and agreed to a permanent cease fire, and the Coyotes are free to hire, for the right price." He smiled at Orsula and Jonah and sat back. This part of his job was the part he enjoyed most, getting shuttled around at someone else's expense to simply confirm a few statements in person. A free shower was sometimes worth more than gold.

Orsula looked at Orlianne for a moment, and he nodded, indicating this was a fair offer. "Done," she said. "Mr. Orlianne will help take care of the details and fine print."

"What about you, Sho-sa?" asked a curious Orlianne. "Will you return to the Combine now that your duties with the Coyotes are finished?" His voice filled the room like he was singing a song instead of just speaking plainly.

J.J. was silent for a moment longer than he needed to be, then nodded to himself. "Something happened at Langley that I do not agree with. Whoever was responsible, and we still don't know who yet, did something dishonorable in the eyes of the Dragon. I want to stay and find out who. Since I was expected to be here for another ten months, I see no harm in offering my services to the Coyotes during that time while I investigate. I know how to work the system in my favor. I've done this for years."

He turned to Emily next to him in his chair. "Major? What do you say?" _Oh, you picked a hell of a moment to ask, you clever dog._

She stood and offered his hand, breaking the local custom in the room. _Hell with it._ "Welcome to the Coyotes, Sho-sa. But now we officially get to call you 'Captain J.J.'"


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

May 2, 3025

Above Kevilston

Suk II

Few things really beat the thrill of flying. It was even more nice when the wind from the VTOL's rotors was adding a nice breeze to the passengers of the _Diana's Wish_ , a rather spacious private craft sent to pick up Emily and J.J. Another few hours of flying and the jungles of Gimli were far behind them. They were passing above the 2nd largest city on the planet. Really the only place big enough to be called a city other than the capitol of Mach 'Beh. There were plenty of suburbs all around both cities, and plenty of smaller villages further out. Some even had their own water treatment plant. But if they didn't break 1 million people, their town's names weren't officially recognized as a city, and thus were still considered part of the larger city.

That didn't make the view any less impressive. The passenger hold was mostly empty except for them large and boxy and somewhat resembling what a _Heuy_ from ancient Terra would look like. The doors were open on both sides which let the air in and gave them the chance to look out to the west.

Jungle was everywhere, but it contained threads of grey running through it, stretching on until the horizon, continuing even further towards the mining districts and mountain resorts poking out from just over the edge. Craggy, pointy-looking mountains from jutted up from here, and it looked like the planet had grown a lower set of canine teeth along most of what they could see in the distance. Beyond was the continent of New Syria, with matching teeth on the opposite side of a large channel and even more jungle. Volcanic eruptions long before mankind ever settled in to the planet so many centuries ago had moved rich mineral veins closer to the surface to be extracted. The wind speed was lower on this planet than most, so the mountains hadn't been rounded down to make them more climbable.

Directly under them was a large expanse of grey, black, and various streams of color (mostly green) throughout the city. Emily and J.J. were clearing it on the northern side, though looking back the streams of traffic of people going about their every day lives was visible as small metal ants traveling across a net of ferrocrete on a bed of green beneath it. Many roads were elevated, allowing trees to grow underneath and in many cases, around the highways. Giant trunks, possibly half a millennia old at this point, were still able to hold their own weight as they twisted around buildings built in their shadows. It gave the feeling that the entire city was being hugged by these green monsters. The artistry of Kevilston from this height made it look like the city came first, and the trees weaved their way around as they grew.

This city was known throughout the Inner Sphere for its architecture, and many younger colonies and cities throughout often mimicked the pattern. Over 25 million people lived in what was nicknamed the Keviltrees. Here the quality of life was higher than most metropoli that had even more access to better health care and technology. It had a lot more traffic accidents though, typically at low speeds as tourists often rubbernecked the views only to gently bump into the vehicle in front of them, mesmerized.

Emily didn't want to turn her eyes away until the VTOL sadly pulled the city out of sight. She was compensated by an even grander view up ahead, as the capitol of Mach 'Beh came into view. It was an absolute giant, with even some of the outer-most buildings being massive and often cylindrical in shape. Her VTOL began to gain more altitude just to clear these "smaller" buildings that rose higher than the first skyscrapers of the 20th century. The ones in the center were probably twice as tall. Construction sites half as tall as the outer buildings were all around the edge of the city. One had a bright pink billboard flashing "Who needs the country when you can see it all from your home in the clouds?"

The view directly below them was blurred by the thick, rapidly-displaced air of the fans on either side of Diana's Wish behind them, as well as one beneath them to the front. It made the buildings seem to vibrate by themselves, then slowly melt across the streets and come back together as the craft passed over. She couldn't make out the tallest buildings up ahead, mainly due to some of the light noon-day smog obscuring the skyline, but they nonetheless continued upwards. Despite technological advances in transportation, the internal combustion engine was still a thing, even though the fuels were much cleaner and the amount of pollution in the sky of such a massive city was even less than 21st century levels, when alternate fuels were just starting to come out.

 _I'd hate to be the guy handling all the permits for solar panels on these beasts_ , Emily though to herself. Like Kevilston's overall design looking like a group of large vines had overgrown a scale model of the city, Mach 'Beh had similar architecture, but in a more metallic, less twisty variety. Various tubes connected most of the larger buildings towards the center like giant ropes, allowing transport from building to building without having to spend an hour going up and down, and also giving every building more support. Which allowed them to build things as high as they did. The central metropolis of the Capitol resembled the tallest rodent cage in the universe, assuming the rodents were the size of humans. The entire silhouette of the skyline ahead of her looked like one big cat's cradle laid on top of a bed of popsicle sticks with needles sticking out of the top.

Traveling by VTOL was the way to go in this town, in a city of over one hundred million. The entire town appeared to be the nest of a colony of metallic bees, floating along lanes of traffic up and down the city, while others went in their own circular patterns from rooftop to rooftop. Or in some cases, rooftop to the side of a building, where various landing pads jutted out in every direction. Had these bees not been buzzing around, blowing some of the pollution further away from the city and into the jungle to "pollinate" the trees hungry for carbon dioxide, Emily guessed this city would have a much darker sky than it did.

While slightly gaudy in its appearance, it was nonetheless impressive for a first-timer. Emily was simply in awe. She said nothing for the last ten minutes while taking in these views. Even by air, it still took that long "as the crow flies" to reach the downtown area. She also suspected the pilot of their VTOL was instructed to "go slow" to allow them to take in the glory of their planet. J.J. was about as bored as you could imagine, somehow. Finally, he nudged her with his elbow, speaking loudly into the microphone connected to his headset. "Down there, Wright-sama." She looked at where he pointed, which was a building far shorter in height than the other downtown buildings, but stouter and more square-like, like an ancient Terran cathedral or mosque. Only three-times the height of the ancient ones.

"Parliament Hall, I think." He shouted. Emily simply nodded and stared. J.J. had obviously been around a little bit longer than anyone in the Coyotes, so he was just a little more used to this kind of thing.

Over both of their headsets, a voice from the front chimed in. "The PM asked me to give you a loop around the city first. Want one? You'd better be strapped in first." Emily enthusiastically said, "Hell yeah!" and the ship banked left to allow them a view directly over their own mid-day shadows, wherever those were. _Somewhere down there,_ she thought. _Really wish Pearl could have come on this ride._ As her new XO, it meant they would be apart more during official business like this. One of them had to hold the fort down. As the VTOL circled outside the lanes of traffic below them, both on the ground and above it, she realized how loud this town could actually get with all the vehicles in every direction.

 _How did people even have a conversation in a town like this if you weren't inside_? Then she remembered how hot it normally got, and probably figured if they weren't on some nature hike, they were probably indoors. It seemed most people were indoors, anyway. At least up here it seemed pretty comfortable, but she knew better. She had sweat her ovaries off for about two months straight. She probably drank as much water as it took to keep five people hydrated on some other more temperate planets.

After their loop, which basically showed more of the same from this height, they came down onto one of the landing pads of Parliament Hall. People were coming and going from this place even faster than most others, and the two of them quickly fell into pace behind their greeter. Almost everyone here seemed to wear some variation of a ceremonial Roman toga. _Probably more comfortable than my sweaty tank top and shorts, and I probably stink to high hell by now. Am I really coming in to negotiate a contract like this?_ J.J. wasn't much better off. He was probably thinking something similar, because he wound up asking the question first to their guide. "Is there a place we can take a shower before we meet with such high-ranking officials?"

The guide, a short, arguably tiny woman, whose own toga would probably only qualify as a top or a bottom for Emily, grinned widely. "Yes, I will take you there now."

This must have been a common practice on this planet, especially for off-worlders coming to negotiate business deals or political disputes between neighbors, because they had a nice facility dedicated to just that. And some kind of a machine that washed and dried their clothes and had it hanging out and ready for them within five minutes, sans stink and fortunately not any smaller than before.

The feeling after a cool shower on a hot day and feeling two months of grime just roll off your naked body, and putting on clean, dry socks was no doubt _the_ best feeling one could experience. _Ahh…better than SEX_ , she thought, sighing loudly and not caring who heard it. J.J. simply smiled at her and was far better at containing his emotions, but when the eyebrows went up to his hairline and the eyes closed in pure relief as he slipped his own socks on, Emily simply giggled. "Don't try to hide it, J.J. I won't tell anyone. Best feeling in the world, right? I feel _kilos_ lighter."

He laughed. A short one, but still the first one she'd heard out of him in two months, despite the now-threesome's attempts at trying. Even a few pranks only got a smile and nothing more out of him.

All refreshed (and arguably twice as tired now that the grime came off), the two were escorted into a small but luxurious room. Despite the grandeur on the exterior of the building, most of the inside they had seen was all business. And hallways. Lots of hallways and doors. No doubt many meetings were going on in some of those rooms over…who knew what. _Construction was probably a big one_ , given the expansion on the edge of the city she noticed.

That thought was interrupted by the early arrival of two people, a man and a _whoa, what a woman,_ entering the room and sitting down immediately. Emily resisted the urge to stand as part of the greeting, but was informed when she arrived on-planet the custom for whoever came in the room was to match whatever position everyone else was already in. Having an open chair by a doorway helped reinforce that custom.

What struck her first was the unusual dress she wore, with the almost 1-meter train behind it. A deep green, it was far more form-fitting around her waist than the various colors of brown togas Emily saw everyone else wear, including the man with her.

What struck her _second_ was how drop-dead gorgeous she was. She probably was at least 10 years her senior, but looked like she could be almost half Pearl's age at 36. _Pearl, you'd better be damn glad I found you first, or I'd be all over her like grease on a myomer muscle._ Only a couple of lines in her face betrayed her true age, but Emily was probably sure she didn't cover that up to give her more of an air of authority and experience.

"Greetings, both of you, and thank you for coming. I am Orsula Alvarez, head of the Planetary Ministry of Safekeeping. Which is a fancy title for "I look after the planetary militia and any help it may receive on the side." She exchanged smiles at Emily, knowing she clearly won points by not sugar-coating her job right off the bat. "This is my aide, Jonah Orlianne. Goes by mister these days but he used to lead a company of infantry in the militia before retiring early as a Captain to become my aide." Everyone simply nodded at each other as introductions finished across the room. _Not shaking hands is just weird, to me, but whatever,_ Emily thought.

"The Coyotes. Yes, I've heard. At first, I thought you were called the Jackals. That was embarrassing." She smiled and shook her head. "But your achievements have definitely caught our attention. I asked your contract liaison to come just so I can confirm in person that you are indeed available for a new contract. We'd like to get your assistance against…exactly what you have been doing the last two months, really. And there's one other thing…" She trailed off, standing up to look out the small window at the metallic rope tubes connected to some of their building.

"Yes?" Emily asked. _Oh, just get to the point already._ _You're totally doing this on purpose._

Alvarez turned, the bright Suk sun dancing off her dress, creating a shadow on the floor that seemed to reach out to Emily. _Nope, taken. Taaaakeennn_ …

"There's been a lot of unrest in the streets since the raids on our water facilities. We still have plenty of functioning treatment plants, but we still haven't located the commandos or their base of operations, or who they're working for. Intel suggests they might be Combine, but we can't be sure yet. Whoever they are, they caused a lot of stress on the people of our planet. There's been increased looting, protests, you name it. Things haven't gone to the level of straight rioting yet, and our police has taken on extra recruits in the last week to help out. But the people…well large groups of them…just a nudge this way or that could start some serious problems, infrastructure damage, maybe even loss of life."

"Are you asking us to help with potential riot duty?" Emily asked indignantly. "Ma'am, with all due respect, that's not what the Coyotes are good for. We're guerrilla specialists and restricting ourselves to the streets of Mach 'Beh or Kevilston would be hiring us for maybe…25% efficiency of what you're actually paying us for."

She nodded, looking to her aide. He spoke, with his deep, baritone voice making Emily wish she was bisexual. _Lots of sexual tension in this damn room, to be honest,_ she thought. _And what's with hair on this planet? Was everyone just born with perfect hair or what?_ "What we were thinking were more along the lines of helping guard the mining districts to the west and possibly the south. We've asked Roughrider garrison units to assist more directly in defending our water supply, which leaves openings for contracts for defending the industrial heart of our planet.

Several guerrilla units of smaller size than yours have begun to make probing attacks near those districts. We understand that you took some heavy losses during the Langley Affair, and we're willing to help you get rebuilt with the necessary parts." _OK, now we're getting somewhere._

Emily answered, "I'm aware there are some rather large towns near those districts. Are people more upset near the districts than the treatment plants? I sure would be if it meant my hard work was going to waste."

"Not just their hard work, but their profits as well," Orsula added. "The main people coming forward to me with their concerns are the foremen and heads of these mining companies with government and private contracts to fill, and frankly they don't even feel comfortable having their people on the job if there's the potential for a cave-in due to a firefight and such. I know I wouldn't. You probably already know this, but hover tanks are a pretty significant export of this planet. We don't have much in the way of mech facilities, but Lucas Technologies has a medium-sized production facility between that district and the capitol, and the tariffs on exports for military hardware helps our economy greatly."

Emily knew about the facility and saw several LTV-4 hover tanks back at Firebase Yankee. 50 tons each and carrying both a Particle Projection Cannon (or PPC) as well as an SRM with 4 tubes made it a sight to behold when a lance of them focused on one target. And it was fast, reaching top speeds of 110 kph. _Probably replacements for some of the vehicles they brought from off-world that we wound up capturing. Maybe they were going to use them to help catch us, since we bagged some of the slower tanks._

"The western districts sound more our speed, but we'll need a couple days and a dropship to move over there. I'll need access to some kind of a maintenance facility near the district, even if it's not a 'mech one, so my techs…what's left of my techs can get some proper repairs done. Up until now my people have done field repairs in the jungle using vines and trees to rig up pulley systems and done most of the lifting by hand. As of right now I have one fully-functional lance, two lances in various states of repair, and one lance of confiscated hover tanks from the Roughriders. I might negotiate my hovers back to them in exchange for parts and/or a replacement mech, but right now that's what you're looking at.

"Our people are best on defense, which is what you'll be paying us for. We would focus primarily on perimeter defense and attempts to bait and capture hostile mercenary forces, but for now we're shorthanded. Instead of a higher contract price, I'm willing to negotiate some of that in exchange for direct support from the planetary militia." Emily held up a hand, delaying any interjections for now. Orlianne clearly looked like he had something he wanted to say.

"What I'm asking for are two lances of some of the heaviest tanks you can offer, or one heavy to assault mech lance, in exchange for a portion of our fee, or even close to all of it, and they answer to me during the contract. This allows me to set up traps to acquire enemy units to add to our own force. For the time being, we need an anvil for our hammer. Their risk will be minimized—the Coyotes are the ones that act as the bait. Our TO&E allows for that easily. Half the reason we came to Suk II on our previous contract was to grow our force, and now it's smaller than it started as, thanks to Langley. Help pay our operational costs and wages, help with our repair and rebuild and give us some big guns to entice people to surrender more quickly, _and_ give us…let's say 90% salvage rights, and we can defend your mining district. That alone should help with most of the unrest in that area. If you want us to do riot control, you're better off going with someone else."

J.J. was the first to break in, bowing in his seat. "I can confirm the 1st Iron Coyotes are no longer under contract. We consulted with the Roughriders' lawyers and agreed to a permanent cease fire, and the Coyotes are free to hire, for the right price." He smiled at Orsula and Jonah and sat back. This part of his job was the part he enjoyed most, getting shuttled around at someone else's expense to simply confirm a few statements in person. A free shower was sometimes worth more than gold.

Orsula looked at Orlianne for a moment, and he nodded, indicating this was a fair offer. "Done," she said. "Mr. Orlianne will help take care of the details and fine print."

"What about you, Sho-sa?" asked a curious Orlianne. "Will you return to the combine now that your duties with the Coyotes are finished?" His voice filled the room like he was singing a song instead of just speaking plainly.

J.J. was silent for a moment longer than he needed to be, then nodded to himself. "Something happened at Langley that I do not agree with. Whoever was responsible, and we still don't know who yet, did something dishonorable in the eyes of the Dragon. I want to stay and find out who. Since I was expected to be here for another 10 months, I see no harm in offering my services to the Coyotes during that time while I investigate. I know how to work the system in my favor. I've done this for years."

He turned to Emily next to him in his chair. "Major? What do you say?" _Oh, you picked a hell of a moment to ask, you clever dog._

She stood and offered his hand, breaking the local custom in the room. _Hell with it._ "Welcome to the Coyotes, Sho-sa. But now we officially get to call you 'Captain J.J.'"


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

May 6, 3025

North of Mercury Metallics and Mining district

Continent of New Syria

Suk II

"We've got two new 'mechs on sensors. Both _Fire Javs._ They're falling back. Stallion in pursuit." The comms ended in Jawbone's headset with an abrupt squelch, one of the little quirks of _his Orion ON1-K's_ neurohelmet when he picked the 'mech up in Combine space last year. His forward observer, Stallion, in a _Dervish_ set up for long range missiles was the "scout" of their little team, at a mere fifty-five tons compared to his heavy lance, Jawbone's Jesters. They picked up between three to four light 'mechs from some local mercenaries working for the Militia, with a grey dog of some kind for their insignia. _Cute. Must have just got here. Time to kick 'em out of our turf._

"Jawbone in pursuit. Watch the trees on the tops of these cliffs! The ground's pretty unsteady up there. If you find a good spot, get a couple volleys off before moving." These _Fire Javs_ seem to be probing us out, tired of the mineral scores we've gotten over the last week or so. Whoever those commandos were that got the water treatment plants, Jawbone wanted to shake their hands. It opened up a wealth of opportunity in rarer minerals and some gemstones on New Syria. The RoughRiders didn't give them any more trouble on this continent. They were busy elsewhere, and word got out they all pulled back to that Alshayra continent. This mining district was their oyster.

Now they just had to get their haul, and a little bit more off planet before any more cavalry showed up. _But first, these guys._ "Longshot. Stay on the cliffs and give Stallion some cover fire."

"Copy," came a gravely, deep voice from Longshot, who sounded more like he ate his cigarettes instead of smoking them. He was also hopping from cliff to cliff in these tight, winding canyons in his _Catapult_. A luxury to some, half his lance had jump jets, but neither his _Orion_ nor his _Warhammer_ had any, and his own 'mech were mostly equipped for longer-range fighting. Their _Warhammer_ had twin PPC's, one in each tube arm, and a whole lotta "fuck you" up close with twin medium and small lasers, a six-tube SRM launcher and two machine guns to wrap things up.

He'd fare better in these canyons than Odin, the name of his own seventy-five-tonner. His entire lance had over five-dozen total LRM's, so running down these _Javs_ shouldn't take too much longer. They just needed an opening for a shot in the next couple of minutes…

"Plus one _Jav_ again, makes three. LURMS away on target beta." Longshot let loose with his thirty LRM's, half in either of his boxy "cat ears" on the back corners of his walking blimp. A brief pause, and some small rumbles almost a kilometer ahead. "Hit on the legs, about half my LURMS. Jumping forward. Jawbone, they really like to jump right before the LURMS land. Maybe you can track them on my next volley. Beta has a red right leg."

Their version of saying that _Jav_ was done for if the leg took another volley like that. A light 'mech with one good leg is a dead 'mech. _Speed's everything when you were outgunned by about…oh…a hundred tons or more._

"Shit," Stallion said through his teeth. "Went behind another cliff. Keep your eye on that corner, Longshot. I'm moving south."

"Copy."

Jawbone finally got around another corner and saw some of the exchange ahead of him. The corner, between two other cliffs, were scarred and pockmarked with little craters from Longshot's last barrage. Pieces of metal scattered the area, the last of that _Fire Jav's_ leg protection having served its purpose.

"Contact! Eight medium-sized contacts from the south, just powered up or started up an ICE. Danger close. Looks like combos but I'll move a little closer to get a better readout." _A trap. They could be tanks._ Combos, or ICE, meant internal combustion engines, so he suspected a tank trap. _We could probably take all of them if we draw them into the canyon with us…_

"Neg, Stallion. Fall back and form up on me, everyone. We're getting out of here. We're going to counter bait them by drawing them to us one at a piecemeal." Almost on cue, two of the three _Fire Javs_ came back through the gap between the cliffs and split up, hopping up on the edges above either side of Jawbone's _Orion_. He didn't have time for a missile lock but got a snap shot from his AC-10 in his shoulder, a 115mm slug finding its way into the wounded _Jav's_ right arm. The velocity of the explosion from the arm snapping off at the elbow, right as the _Jav_ landed on the unsteady rocks on the cliff, plus the fact that it was by nature a little top-heavy made him slip and spin clockwise, slamming into a smaller tree on its back.

The tree gave way instantly but helped cushion the pilot's fall. He could still see a battered shin and foot sticking out from the edge of the cliff, and he moved forward slightly to get a shot at the exposed knee. A light vibration in his seat as another round cycled into the chamber of his autocannon indicated he was ready to amputate, and he fired everything that wasn't danger-close, including two medium lasers and a four-tube SRM. The armor-piercing, high-explosive slug found the knee right after the lasers, snapping it clean off, and the SRM's made small holes on its upper thigh. A small spike of heat in his cockpit stole some of his breath for a split second, and he snagged a quick sip of the tiny water valve off his left shoulder.

"Legged the Beta _Jav_!" Jawbone hollered. The second _Jav_ opened up to his left, scoring green laser hits across his arms and chest but penetrating nothing.

"Oh ff—" static.

A light flickered on the console his left side. The green outline of Stallion's 'mech on his lance's status screen blinked in various places, then the area indicating the head went black. Various parts of the upper torso also changed to various colors of yellow or orange, indicating a huge volley just happened.

Then the entire icon for the mech went black.

"Stallion, you alright?" No response. Jawbone turned to square-off against the other _Jav_ , but it jumped out of his line of sight.

"Stallion?! Come in!" Jawbone suddenly lost a lot of heat in his face. Everything felt shaky, and he broke out into a cold sweat to go with the very warm dampness all over his body.

"Headshot. Multiple headshots." Longshot's voice, much more deadpan, as the reality of the instant removal of an ally and friend started to dawn on all of them. _To get multiple headshots on a_ Dervish _with a cockpit towards the rear…_

"Last sensor contacts showed about two lances of LTV-4 Hovers." They all have PPC's. And they got the jump on him. New contact! Dropship! _Leopard_! Coming in from the south!"

Jawbone's eyes went wide and he gritted his teeth at what just happened. _We got baited. Jesus Christ how many more are coming?_ If they turned around, it'd take a about a minute until they reached the woods, but those hovers were twice as fast as they were.

"New thermal contacts!" Longshot again. "Infantry from the west! Reading two platoons. They're probably anti-'mech. _SHIT!"_

The _Leopard_ was coming to a standstill almost right on top of them. Dust and small rocks being kicked up by superheated jets turned the entire viewing screen ahead of him to about twenty shades of swirling brown and grey."The brick with wings" opened its four 'mech bay doors, two on either side, and three light 'mechs, all humanoid in shape but tiny in size, with one _Trebuchet_ hopped out the sides and lit their jump jets about half a kilometer overhead.

The sound was more than deafening. Even with his sealed cockpit, the vibration from so much displaced air shook him and his 'mech. He briefly switched his targeting and sensors to thermal and floated his reticles toward one of the giant blobs of white in the sky. The downward-thrusting engines of the _Leopard._ Four of them, brighter than this planet's star. He put his fingers back on the triggers to hopefully take it down and rally his men behind a dropship kill.

As he tilted his chest upwards towards the hovering beast, the two PPC's in its nose opened up on Jawbone, beating him to the punch. Both hit him square in the chest, and the resulting slight impact plus the spike of ions swirling around the electronics in his 'mech caused his own targeting system to stutter and sway, making him miss almost everything but the lasers. They landed so far away that they did little more than put a couple smoldering dots on the dropship, now beginning to ascend and bank back the way it came with its 'mech bay doors securely shut.

After all the noise had subsided, during which nobody was able to get a word in, another squelch of a slightly different pitch came over his helmet's wonky speakers. "Attention, the three heavies in the canyons. You're surrounded and trapped by two companies of planetary forces, with more on the way." A female voice, not too young, not too old. She continued her speech as more sensor contacts indicating a _Wolverine_ and _Shadow Hawk_ lit up his sensors even further from the east. More than half of the Militia hovertanks had also circled around a hillside to the south, aiming their SRM launchers and PPC's at whatever they could get a bead on.

Most of them head a bead on Jawbone's exposed backside. And he was standing still.

"You have two choices. One, go down swinging. It'll be glorious for you, and you'll probably bag a few tanks or 'mechs. Or some infantry currently pointing over a dozen SRM tubes at you from the west. Some of you might even survive to tell your friends and family about it someday. But you won't get to keep your 'mechs, and most likely won't get to keep your lives, either.

"Option two. Power down, right now, no questions asked. Surrender your 'mechs and we'll ransom you and your personnel back to your people at your base. You have ten seconds to decide. Nine. Eight. Seven—"

"OK, OK! Stop counting, bitch! Jesters, power down. _Now_." Jawbone moved his hands over his control panel for a second, hovering…then moved them back to the sticks. He changed his comm channel back to his lance. "Do _not_ follow up on this. Get out of your rides, now." Changing back to the public channel, he saw what he wanted. "But first…" The light 'mechs that landed out of the dropship had all stopped at the edges of the cliffs, not more than a couple hundred meters from Jawbone. Perfectly stationary.

A _Trebuchet_ had popped out, waist-high, over a cliff. _Bigger than the lights, but the head is right there._ His sensors went back to normal after some of the dust and debris had settled, showing a clean shot. If he could turn to the right fast enough…

The second he began to turn, the voice over the public channel shouted, _"kill the Orion!"_ She didn't even take the time to switch back to her own comms. The _Trebuchet_ lit its jump jets, rising up slightly and pivoting its torso to the right. The other lights in that lance did a similar jump, unsure who was the actual target. The AC-10 was in range, along with his LRM's, but nothing else was close enough. The sudden unexpected movement of the _Treb_ caused his shot to go low, instead of a direct head hit, merely impacting on the left side of its chest.

A large explosion cut through but left most of the internal structure intact. His LRM's arrived late, putting craters in the legs and setting the _Treb_ off-balance but the pilot was able to compensate, since they weren't worried about shooting at the same time.

Had the _Treb_ turned the other way, the shot would have broken through and cooked countless LRM rounds of its own stored inside, blowing the whole thing apart. _Lucky bastard._

Everyone else that didn't just do a bunny-hop to avoid losing their head had nothing distracting them from making near-perfect shots on a stationary heavy 'mech the size of a small building, most of which was turned towards them. LRM's from the _Firebee_ , SRM's from the hovertanks belched black smoke as the missiles went free, seeking the asshole who tried to assassinate their friend. Before they arrived, medium lasers from just about every 'mech cut the _Orion_ in various places, but only making small cracks or holes all over the front. Nothing penetrated.

Until the PPC's hit. Four combined shots all landed square on the _Orion's_ rear armor, much thinner despite the good amount of protection a 'mech of that size normally had. Discharged Ions seemed to shove Jawbone's 'mech forward, forcing the gyroscope to compensate and plant one leg slightly ahead to keep it from being pushed even further into a nearby cliff, face-first. His rear armor display went completely black, with some engine damage in the center.

The few LRMS that were fired without the help of that _Treb_ seemed destined to reach every little crack that was open on its front. Two of the five from a _Firefly_ found holes near the pair of medium lasers in Jawbone's left arm, blowing them apart inside and peeling armor outwards like a disgusting-looking avulsion. Smaller cuts were turned into larger gashes along the chest, opening the 'mech further.

Jawbone rocked forward against his harness, hands still on the sticks. He turned back to face the _Treb_ once more, for one more attempt, and heard the warning tones of more missiles in his helmet. From the _Trebuchet_ itself, which was wrapped in its own smoke. They were already on final approach to him, giving him almost no time to react. He simply put his arms up in front of his face, and thirty more missiles _panged_ and _banged_ and _boomed_ and made all manner of sounds that explosives and metal hitting more metal at incredible rates of speed made.

And yet, it wasn't enough to push him over. However, most of his previously pristine 'mech had become a memory. Emergency lights turned his displays into a Christmas tree, or went out altogether. Sparks fired across several consoles. The smell of acrid smoke filled his nose and taste buds.

He lifted the cover of his emergency ejection switch and slammed his fist down on it. Milliseconds later, loud pops around his cockpit went off, and he was shoved into his seat and into the heavens on jets of flame.

"All Coyotes, Alpha here. Everyone get a laser or something aimed in on that parachute when it opens and wait for my signal." Emily hissed through her teeth.

As the blood stopped rushing into his legs and suddenly went back into his head, Jawbone felt the arc of the cockpit start to plummet back to earth. The roaring ceased, and his chute opened. He smiled at being able to deny them the kill, Ares Conventions about surrender be damned.

As he got his bearings below him, he saw every single tiny 'mech, and some bigger ones, and even the tanks all had their guns aimed in on him. His eyes went wide.

"Fire."

Lasers and machine gun fire created a lopsided teepee of tiny beams of green and red light that speared up at the parachute, poking holes all over it. One beam quickly swept from left to right, cutting one side of the cables connecting chute to cockpit. The PPC's all went high, but some man-made lightning managed to arc its way across the chute, through the cables, and into the cockpit.

The tiny pod fell to the ground within seconds, wrapped in small bands of blue light, as what was left of the fabric of the chute simply fluttered down behind it like a popped balloon.

It landed with a the tiniest of vibrations Emily could feel in her seat from a few hundred meters away.

 _Shoot at my girlfriend, will you?!_ Emily thought…out loud. Then the sudden realization that she thought it _out loud_ over the combined comms of the Coyotes and the Militia hit her, and her ears filled with high-pitched howling and whooping from her entire company, louder than ever. Some slightly static-filled howling came from the Militia tankers, and for a second she thought she could hear Kang one more time.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

May 6th, 3025

Jack's Rack Shack

Alshayra Continent

Suk II

J.J. walked into the packed restaurant knowing he would smell of delicious smoke and meat for the better part of two days if he didn't find a shower. He was fairly certain anyone who ate here walked out with a visible scent trial behind them if anyone had the right tools to observe that. The restaurant itself was actually built into a hollowed-out tree at least half a millennia old **.** The rings of the wood were visible in many parts of the main room, and there was a small display about it off to the side. It was a little warmer than he was already used to, despite being acclimated to the more tropical climate of southern Alshayra/Northern Gimli.

 _More tropical than normal, anyway,_ he thought. Even up in the VTOL previously, the breeze would still feel warm. Comfortable, even. In here, where the smokers and ovens were below-ground to allow the aroma to fill the entire restaurant, it felt like a sauna. His coveralls he borrowed from a 'mech tech didn't help much. It was a well-known fact the "Rack Shack" was known for ordering more bottled water than the entire House of Parliament every month. The customers didn't mind. They said it was "part of the charm of the place."

He grabbed a seat at the end of the bar, nodding to his neighbor, who simply shrugged and continued with his ribs. The bartender finally got to him after a minute and handed him a menu. "Welcome. First time here?" J.J. simply shrugged, trying to draw as little attention to him as possible.

"I'm told the man working the greeter station is here tonight. The man who talked to the RoughRider who went missing on April 22nd. May I speak with him?"

The bartender bristled a bit at that. "You're lookin' at him. Who wants to know? The cops, Double-R Intel spooks, they all talked to me for hours." _RoughRider intelligence, whatever they were called, if they were called anything,_ J.J. assumed. The RoughRiders became a household name in this establishment, seeing as they most of their business since the fighting started last season.

J.J. simply slid a few hundred C-bills and a tiny piece of paper his way before asking. "Eh, never mind. I'll just talk to the cops, then. Thanks anyway. Here's my tab from last night. Sorry about that." He got up and walked out, waving across the room at nobody in particular.

The barkeep pocketed the money, taking a look at the note.

 _Ten times this amount is yours if you answer some questions at_ The Green Flamingo _when you get off your shift. Please come immediately after your shift. Destroy this note immediately._

The barkeep figured _eh, what the hell. I could use a few thousand tonight._ He threw the note in the very wet trash can and went about his business.

J.J. waited in the hotel room with the holovid playing a nondescript late-night talk show. A hand rested on a silenced pistol he got on loan from Mr. Orlianne, using some of his contacts in the Militia. As the door knocked, he checked the thermal goggles for anything behind the door, the person knocking, and the parking lot behind it. Nothing for a least a few hundred meters Opening the door, he shook the hand of the barkeep/witness and motioned for him to have a seat.

"Hey, please put that thing away, man! It's just me." J.J. obliged for now, holstering his weapon. "So, what do you want to know? I mean you could probably get all this info from the cops for free. Why pay me so much?"

J.J. said nothing for a moment. He turned up the conical white noise machine sitting next to the bed. "Let's just say the man you talked to is part of some global conspiracy to sabotage 'mechs moments before The Langley Affair and all the other treatment plants. We don't know who, and we were hoping you could help shed some light on our own private investigation. It's best you don't know who we are, for your own safety." He pulled out a thousand c-bill note to get him talking. "More where this came from. Tell me about him."

The barkeep accepted the money with a big grin and nodded. "Came in at least a few times a week with his usual group of friends. Nice tipper, which is why I remember him so well. The other guys were pretty rowdy and didn't tip that much. Anyway, a guy in a suit, shades, shaved head and a dark brown goatee walks in and asks me to flag him down. Said his name was Takashi, gave me the description, and paid me fifty C-bills to go find him. By the time I get back to the podium, guy was gone and the phone was ringing telling me to wait. Maybe they had some kinda miscommunication and didn't mean to show their faces, I dunno. Either way he was gone, and the phone rang right as we both got back to the podium. Was real creepy, man. I didn't like it, but what could I do at that point?"

 _Perhaps warn the man that something didn't feel right,_ J.J. thought to himself. He said nothing and kept his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. His glossy, straight black hair had grown way out of regulations since his liaison began with the Coyotes. He was taller than most man of Japanese descent, but still shorter than this man. His normally baby-smooth face had a haggard-looking goatee with flecks of grey, early for his age of forty. He never had the chance to really grow it out, so he enjoyed it while he could.

The barkeep took the silence as a cue to move on. "Aaaanyway, the phone rings, and he starts

swearing into the phone. Something like 'I already did it,' or something. Guess he was in somebody's pocket for a while. Lots of casinos between here and downtown. I like to call them a fishing net, catching nature tourists migrating up and downstream on this highway. I imagine some of the Double-R's like to piss their money away here, too. There aren't any gangs or anything in this area so I figured it was all gambling related."

The man went silent. J.J. simply pulled out another 1k C-bill note and handed it to him. _Funny, I figured they would always do that "I can't remember any more," and then they get more money and go "oh hey, it's coming back to me now."_ The taller man continued, sitting down on the bed with Kerensky knows how many invisible stains on it. "I talked to his friends, said he was definitely stressin' out about money, and once one of the other techies started into this story about how his work was a little weird and the chief tech would have to double-check his stuff, then another guy slapped him on the back of the head and he shut up."

 _I wonder how many people they got to do RoughRider, mercenary_ and _militia gun cams across the planet simultaneously. This is bad. Getting organized crime involved seems like it fits the bill, but what do they gain by sabotaging literally every force on this planet? Who the hell had that kind of pull, and would also benefit from it?_

 **"…** And then he just walked outside and nobody heard from him again. It sounded like he was flat out denying whoever he was talking to that he was even the right person, but he walked out anyway. I dunno man, but that's all I know."

"Thanks for your time. I'll escort you to your car." J.J. took his thermal goggles off the bed and scanned one more time in the parking lot. A small blossom of heat was showing up on a low hillside on the opposite side of the parking lot. Very small. Like someone laying prone for no really good reason at all. Sweeping the opposite side through the wall and adjoining room didn't give him much to go on, and there was only one way in and out of here. The front door—which was likely covered by a sniper at this point.

"I hate to break it to you, but someone doesn't want you passing around info to unknown people. I'm sorry this happened, but whoever's involved has fingers in a lot of pockets. There might be someone waiting to kill us across the parking lot, but we can't get out. Any ideas?"

The barkeep thought about it for a minute. J.J. didn't press him, because time was the only thing on their side at the moment. "I can call my trucker friend and he can have a pretend breakdown on the road over there. He owes me a tab and if you're willing to cover it, plus another five thousand C-bills for putting my life in danger tonight, I can make that happen."

J.J. nodded. He didn't have a lot of room to negotiate, and he could always just charge the Coyotes or Militia for any extra expenses at this point. For the next ten minutes, they mimed a conversation and let the white noise machine do the rest. The thermal signature didn't move. Within another five minutes, the barkeep's friend showed up, conveniently blocking the line of sight between them and the possible sniper. J.J. handed him everything in his pocket, a few thousand more C-bills.

"Don't go back to work. In fact, find a new job. I'm sorry my new friend, but your life is in way too much danger, now. I have set up a dead-drop with 10,000 C-bills to help you get off-planet until this whole thing…blows over. I was hoping I wouldn't have to use it, but here." He passed a piece of scrap paper showing the location of a dumpster in Mach 'Beh with the money. The barkeep looked almost…disappointed. "You're damn lucky I'm single. Can't you just go take him out?" he said, frowning.

"Sorry you didn't get to see an exciting gunfight or see someone get their ass kicked in less than two seconds, but most espionage isn't what you see on the holovids. It's almost one hundred percent of your time spent staying _out_ of trouble." J.J. sounded more like a scolding parent, but just let it go and shook his hand and they left the motel in opposite directions.

J.J. opted to carjack something on the far side of the motel and went south, back to Firebase Yankee, and towards Langley. He wasn't a demolitions expert, but getting up close might show who, from his own people, specifically who was responsible.

Camp Bow Wow II

Mercury Metals and Mining District

New Syria

It was nice to wake up to a breeze that didn't come with its own sweat. And it was nice to wake up inside four walls and a ceiling. Even just the ceiling felt like a luxury at this point. Emily awoke and looked around the small stucco house she shared with Pearl, Martin, their admins and chief 'mech tech, and the Militia liaison. She got up from her cot, laid out alongside Pearl's, and stretched. _She always needs an extra hour. I'm damned lucky I only need five to function normally. I could never do this job if I needed that much time like some people do._ She could barely sleep anyway. The adrenaline from the entire operation, the salvaging aftermath and the trip back to the mining district back with all their new "loot" had her all giddy. She'd be lucky if she could call that a nap.

Walking to the tiny kitchen, or at least tiny for the number of people in the house, she started some coffee and opened the data pad containing their acquisitions from yesterday. First on her little review of the morning, which she had already looked at least half a dozen times since last night was an almost fully intact _Catapult C1_. Sixty-five tons of long range missile launching fury, with a handful of medium lasers once those ran out.

She stared at the cabinet in front of her in deep thought as the coffee machine gurgled. _This version had jump jets, so it could fit our doctrine, but was pretty slow in comparison with the rest of the remaining company. Still viable, just tricky. Maybe once our_ Urbie's _up we can set up a slower-moving rear guard or something._ Grabbing a few bagels out of the cabinet, she sat at the table to think about what to do with the other two captured 'mechs from last night.

The _Dervish_ was brought back on a flatbed, sans head and a good amount of its armor around the shoulder area. It laid on its back on the flatbed parked between some of the major offices and some of the housing in the mining district. Virtually everyone saw the gaping crater where the head had fused and melted into itself, leaving mostly a solid congealed mass of metal, circuitry, fabric and human remains. Nobody wanted to go near it, yet.

 _Knowing the pilot had become literally fused into the 'mech itself until the entire mess was extracted was creepy, to say the least._ _It's like the damn thing is haunted. Would anyone be willing to pilot it?_ She shook her head at that one. _Of_ course _someone will pilot it, haunted or not. The lure of being in a 'mech is too great for most people, even the superstitious. Most MechWarriors would rather be cursed than dispossessed. Most, anyway._

Her word association made her think of being possessed vs. being dispossessed and seeing a half-melted _Dervish_ on one side of a scale. Being bored and drunk at a bar rested on the other side. It made her chuckle into her bagel. The headless _Dervish_ weighed the scale firmly on the ground. She continued reading while some of the other people in the house started getting up.

 _A_ Warhammer _. Just like Leutnant Topeni's. Same variant, same tube-PPC's for arms at the elbow, same SRM/LRM launchers up top, same everything. Just a different color, mostly. And the cockpit probably smelled different. Seventy tons of humanoid stomping power, if the human was a swimmer with a tiny waist, broad shoulders and no neck. But I can't use it! Damn thing has no jump jets!_ She was seriously considering trading the RoughRiders the _'Hammer_ for another medium to replace her lost _Enforcer_ and some other light or a huge pile of spare parts or credit toward current and future repairs.

It was extremely tempting to keep it. An almost pristine ' _Hammer_ in terms of battle damage started at around six million C-Bills on the open market, though it needed a little maintenance from normal combat use on its working parts inside. Most medium 'mechs would start around three million. And she had pilots that needed new rides. It seemed almost decided for her already.

She had a _Fire Javelin_ that needed a brand-new leg. Fortunately, with Romeo's bruised ribs being whipped back and forth against his restraints from the fall, he wouldn't be driving it for a week or two, so there was time to get that done. Replacing the leg was easy enough though, with access to some of the Militia's light 'mech supplies. Their _Spider_ and _Falcon_ should be back up and running within a week, but Vi and McIntock, Archangel and Granite, as their new callsigns went respectively, were still pretty messed up. She needed to arrange a VTOL to transport to Firebase Yankee to see how they were doing later today.

 _I've never had to let go of such a shiny ride, though. It's a bummer, but totally worth it in the long run._ She had to be sure to send a little thank-you present to the _Leopard_ pilot of the Militia. He was the pilot of the only combat-fit dropship the Militia owned. He agreed to do one "hot drop" and only one, so they made it count for maximum wow-factor in order to get that lance to surrender. Except that damn _Orion_ pilot…she looked back at the living room and Pearl starting to stir awake. _He almost got her._ She decided would be happy to trade what was left of the _Orion_ as part of their ten percent salvage agreement to the Militia. She would be happy if she never saw another _Orion_ again.

By now everyone had come to terms that their CO and XO were an item, and they've learned to accept it. And probably fantasized about it daily. Hourly, even. That made their loyalty to Emily and Pearl almost unanimous. They were winning some of the Militia over as well with their last performance. The tank commander wanted to work with her again but given they had used their "freebie" surprise factor, any remaining forces in that area were now on to them. She didn't want to risk local lives for her own gain unless it was a sure thing.

 _So, we got a free_ Cat _out of the fight, a free '_ Hammer, _and almost a whole_ Dervish. _Not a bad trade for about four to five tons of armor and a new leg for a_ Fire Jav _._ _Approximately ten million C-bill profit overnight, give or take a million._ She could barely contain herself with how well that went, but also grimaced inwardly at some of her requisition forms on her datapad. Armor was _expensive_ on this planet. Getting another seventy tons or so really took a chunk out of their balance sheet, which was currently sitting at about seven million C-bills. She also had to double the amount of LRM's that was already on order just to keep her _Griff, Treb, Shadow Hawk, Valk,_ and two _Fireflies_ firing, now that they added a missile-hungry _Cat_ to the mix.

 _On the bright side, when the extra order comes in, that's about ninety-five LRM's in a single volley we could theoretically fire at a target,_ she thought while chomping into the plain bagel dipped in coffee. They hadn't had much time to settle in at their new base of operations, so the little things like the sweeteners and creamer weren't a priority. _Well it sure as hell is now._ She kept making a face as Danek shuffled in, making a few quick bows in worship towards the coffee maker. He hadn't bothered to get dressed yet. At all.

"Morning, and thanks. Where'd you get the boiled bread?"

"In the cabinet over there. Just going over some of our loot from last night. It feels just dirty and wrong to trade off a _Warhammer_ , but we'll be slightly better than where we started this year if we do."

"Mmm." Danek only seemed half-interested until the caffeine started going through his veins. "Did you sleep?"

"Hardly. I'm still all bouncy. Any updates on Romeo?"

"Coffeeeeeee," was all Danek could manage. "I'll check in on him when I get all awakey and have the whole clothing thing going on." It just occurred to Emily that Martin was buck naked in the kitchen with over half a dozen people about to wake up. Buck-ass naked in front of his superior. _Man, some habits really die hard._ Given the company he kept, it was rarely an issue. Now that there was a lot more company in their company, she felt had to at least say something _._

"Uh….Martin…about that clothing thing…" She pointed below his waist.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess it's a little weirder now. But with all our new employees, think of how much I could make if I started charging admission."

Emily simply laughed. "I'll buy you some damn underwear if you wear it more often. Okay?"

He held an awkward silence for a moment while he chugged a local yellow citrus juice out of a bottle. The whole liter. Finally, he grinned and said "Okay, okay. Gonna go shower myself in coffee."

Over his shoulder, he half-shouted "nice job yesterday, boss-lady. We might make a profit after all this year. _Wakey wakey eggs and bakey, everybody!_ " while sauntering down the hallway showing everything his mother gave him.

Emily grinned and went back to her data pad, coffee and boiled bread rings while looking up the contact number for Leutnant-Colonel LaPointe. He should be happy about this little business offer she had for him.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

May 7th, 3025

Camp Bow Wow II

Mercury Metals and Mining District

New Syria

Suk II

 _Shit, I let it slip. I am so screwed._ Jason Ortano, one of the 'mech techs for the Coyotes, had excused himself from the makeshift 'mech bay for "biological reasons." Sitting in the bathroom, partly glad he didn't have to wipe his ass with jungle leaves for a while, he also felt pretty claustrophobic. If they reacted quickly enough, there were probably a half-dozen Coyote techs waiting outside silently, ready to beat him into oblivion for putting their friends in danger.

Actually known as agent Juan Ortiz, he was brought in through another agent who would only say she's working for the Dragon. Everyone knew that meant the Combine, that was no secret. His true loyalties were elsewhere, though he went along with being a Combine loyalist for now. _Have to keep your options open,_ he told himself, back on Hesperus. Now after the smuggled transmitters he casually clipped to some of the harder-to-reach wiring near the cockpit of each 'mech in the Coyotes had been removed, all they needed was their suspect. It wasn't exactly difficult to get it done in the jungle during routine maintenance, and Ortano/Ortiz was one of the techs assigned to electrical work.

He had let it slip during some casual conversation in the 'mech bay. When asked how he was able to locate the devices so fast (he had his fingerprints on them, so he needed to establish he touched them long after the incident to have a more up-to-date alibi), he simply shrugged and said "seems like a logical place, nice and out-of-the-way." Nobody really gave too much thought into how little time it took to find the pattern.

But once things had settled down a few weeks later, speculation began to bloom. The problem is he had discovered and removed them a little _too_ fast, and the more logical places for such a device would be directly connected to one of the electrical lines between the cockpit and the weapon mounts. The transmitters were barely larger than the head of a laser pen, so finding them should have likely taken longer.

As it was, the virus had fired off late at the Langley affair. The commandos had revealed themselves before the Coyotes had lost their gun-cam footage, and apparently that was the only circumstantial evidence that might link the Combine to this entire global incident. The Lyran Commonwealth didn't exactly need more than circumstantial evidence at best to do whatever they wanted, given they were in open-conflict with the Combine, amongst other superpowers.

 _I fucked up the installation. I might have fucked up this entire…whatever is going on._ _And now I fucked up getting rid of it. I am…so fucked._ _This wasn't worth what they paid me._ A hard knock at the door. "Ortano! Let's go, get your ass out here. We wanna _talk_ to you." More knocking. He wasn't going anywhere. They were at least going to have to break down the hollowed-out door that felt more like a prison gate than anything he could hide behind at this point.

"Just a minute! Let a man pull his pants up, will ya?" No answer. _They're probably debating who gets to kick the door in._ Without much wait after that, the door slammed open with a nice dirty boot print below the handle. Wood splintered with a sound of tearing, the only resistance between the saboteur and four angry-looking techs, all holding various hand-sized tools with a variety of scariness.

"Get your ass out here, Ortano. You got some 'splainin' to do."

Emily raised an eyebrow at the battered and bloody 'mech tech the other four had brought into what could technically be called an office, though it felt more like a broom closet. Her duties, both logistically and strategically, have kept her occupied for the most part in terms of finding out what shut down the gun cams. One of the techs isolated the problem within a day, and they had everything they suspected was related to it removed within two days, before their next contract. Aside from the occasional message from J.J. about his investigation, she just didn't have enough time in her day to care about it beyond knowing it was taken care of.

"Cheating at cards?" Emily opted for the underhanded pitch. These guys will do the explaining for him, probably. One of his eyes had swollen shut, his hair was matted with cold sweat, and his hands were tied together with plastic straps behind him. Two of them were holding him up from under his arms. His feet were just above the ground, dangling. _Based on the damage, this had to be the guy. Even card cheats don't get beat_ that _badly. At least no card cheats I've ever met._

"We found the guy. This ass was the guy messin' with the gun cams, Dirk." The largest of the four, a black man with curly hair built like a professional wrestler spoke for the group. He could have held the bloody tech off the ground by himself for a few hours, but opted to keep his big frame in the doorway. _I doubt Pearl could even sneak by him at this point._

"That so?" She stood and rounded to the front of the desk, crossing her arms and leaning against it. "You got somethin' to say about that, Ortano?"

He was silent, but part of it was because his jaw was possibly broken. It was heavily swollen on the right side.

"OK Ortano, you can nod or shake your head at this point, and I'll keep the questions simple. Give him a seat, guys. He's not getting' out of here." To add a touch of her own seriousness to that statement, her hand patted the holstered needler pistol on her right hip. "Sorry I'm not a gifted lefty, but I'm still a damn good shot with this thing. So, let's start from when you got hired for espionage work, and by whom. Was it before you joined us, or after?" No response. The big guy behind him gave him a casual slap on the back of the head which probably sent pain ringing down his…everywhere. His slaps were equivalent to Emily's pistol-whips.

She wondered if he could even see through his good eye right now, taking one in the ocular region of the cranium.

Her poker face needed serious work, but she managed to keep herself unmoving, unphased. She'd be lying to herself if she wasn't enjoying this as much as they were. And she didn't even have to get her hands bloody. _Perks of command,_ she supposed.

Finally, unmoving in his seat, he spoke through his teeth. "Just before the contract. So, the Combine must have known they were going to hire you before then."

"When did you put the bugs in our 'mechs?" She asked.

"Once we got settled in at our old camp. Everyone was usually busy with something else, so they didn't care if I was adjusting something. Was part of the job." He sighed but started to quiver as he began to unravel the whole twisted story with one thread.

The big guy looked at the other techs, and they all nodded. "Major, the reason we were on to him was because he was able to 'discover' the bugs, devices, whatever they are, and remove them far sooner than anyone would expect to check that area. Was crammed up behind a huge bundle of wiring near the cockpits. Not actually visible without digging your hand in there for a long time. He said it was one of the most logical places to hide something, but it also wasn't the best place to make sure everything worked when it supposed to. It was less conspicuous, but not directly connected to the wiring. There was still sheathing protecting it. Didn't you say our gun cams went blind way after the RoughRiders?"

"Yes, by a pretty decent margin. At least half a minute longer. The _Quickdraw_ was at point-blank range before the explosion, so he was able to land his hits without any targeting help. I've seen what footage we _did_ have of the fight, and the RoughRider shots seemed way off the mark well before the explosion. Maybe that's why that _Hunchback_ never got a shot off on any of us. Vi—Archangel, I mean, had her _Spider_ on that building long enough. He should have shot her. Chrome got hit hard before that, but Clothesline was able to get away almost untouched."

She winced at the memory of her friend, but pushed it aside for now. Each passing day made it easier to keep herself in the moment. That thought also made her sad, so she had to push that away for now too.

 _Feels like pushing that kind of stuff to the side is getting easier and easier._

She stood and nodded. "Okay, that's a start. Is there anything else in any of the 'mechs we need to know about? Your life, and possibly the life of anyone you know depends on it." _Wow, that was a stretch coming from someone like me. He gonna buy that load of crap?_

It seemed the 'mech techs already made that abundantly clear while capturing him. He seemed to have already made a mental decision that silence wasn't going to get him anywhere. "Yes. Now that the virus is in your 'mechs, it's gone to sleep. It's buried itself deep in one of the millions of subroutines and whoever is holding the button on their end can turn it on whenever they want. Probably before the next raid."

 _Another one?_ "Where? When?" Her poker face flew off and she immediately got angry and worried at the same time. She'd have to find out what that looked like in the mirror someday. _Almost no sleep. I keep getting sidetracked in my own head._ Focus _, Emily!_

He didn't move. He didn't speak. Another light slap from the big guy. Nicer this time, though. Blood started to trickle out of his nose. He started shaking a little. "I don't know! I'm only putting together the pieces based on what I was told to do. That's all I was told to do. Nobody has talked to me since Hesperus. I found out about the virus due to some poking around after the fact with a portable readout. I saw random command lines show up and before even a second passed, they disappeared. I can't even remember what I read, it happened so fast! All I know is it wasn't just the devices I planted that were messing with the gun cams. Something is sleeping inside your 'mechs and someone can turn it on whenever they want. That's all I know!"

Emily waited a moment, as the man began to sob in his chair. "I'm so fucked. Just fucking kill me, please. I got greedy and they paid me a lot and I thought it was a one-time thing. I had no idea what I got involved in!" Tears went down his face, diluting some of the blood coming from his nose, making a syrupy mess that ran into the corners of his mouth, and further down. His body was still shaking and made it fling off his face in a disgusting display.

She squat down and looked the shameful man in the eyes. "I want the name of your employer. The person who hired you to do this job."

He couldn't meet her cold stare, but between sobs was able to get out a few broken sentences. "I-I-I can-n-n describe her, b-b-but she's probably long-g-g-g-gone now. I n-n-n-ever-r got a nam-m-e."

Emily looked at the other techs. "Get his ass out of here. Take him to the Militia liaison and ask them to detain him until we can sort this out. Ask the doc to check him out once he's behind something more solid that can hold him. Tell them nothing else, and ask our liaison, Captain Daniels, if he could set some time aside with the RoughRider commander and I later today on a call. Tell him it's urgent. I have other things to finish before lunch, so get this sorry sack of shit out of here so I can keep my appetite." The men and woman filed out with Ortano, having a little pity on such a sad display they just witnessed. Someone was nice enough to offer a rag for him to wipe his face and they moved his cuffs to the front.

Emily sat back down and exhaled sharply, taking a moment for all that to sink in. _Well, that was a hell of a bombshell for 0900._ She glanced down at the map on the table she was studying, where moments ago the ideas for how to find and destroy the rest of the other mercenaries in the area was starting to come together in her head. Now her brain was all scrambled. She'd have to try again after lunch.

 _For now, time to bring everyone up to speed._ She grabbed the short-wave radio on the other side of her hip. "Mother hen, Dirk here. Please get Bubba and bring them to the main office ASAP. Need to make a phone call." After getting confirmation, she sat back in her simple office chair and looked at the ceiling, trying to put her thoughts in order. _Clothesline's lance is out on patrol. So I get to have this conversation twice. Goody._

 _Should have slept in with Pearl._

Firebase Yankee

Alshayra Continent

Suk II

Leutnant-Colonel LaPointe was out on a run with some of his troops when he got the call. Still sweating like he had some of Jack's Oblivion Ribs, he stomped to the video call set up for him in the corner of the tent. All they were going to see was a towel over his shoulders and a sweaty tank top. And rivulets of sweat still coming off his face. _Whoever wanted this call so urgently obviously didn't care about formality, so whatever._ Two faces came up on the screen. One he recognized instantly, Major Wright of the Coyotes. _1st Iron Coyotes_ , he mentally corrected himself. The other face was less familiar.

Wright spoke first. "LC, thanks for your time. We'll be brief. First, this is Captain Daniels, my Militia liaison. I thought someone representing them needed to be here for this call."

LaPointe nodded. "Captain." An aide passed by with a bottle of cold water, and he gratefully accepted.

The young man nodded. His goatee looked impervious to sweat, despite some glistening off his angular face with a somber expression. "Leutnant-Colonel. I'll let Major Wright do the talking for both of us to save time." _Smart man,_ the oldest of the three thought.

Wright continued. Her face was about as serious as he remembered, but less exhausted. The screen occasionally flickered her image. "We found our saboteur, LC. Captain J.J. is continuing his investigation elsewhere, but our techs caught him saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and it bit him in the ass. He's currently being detained with the Militia, and awaits further interrogation." For a few minutes, she recounted the events of earlier this morning while LaPointe and Daniels took their own individual notes.

"Half the reason we're calling you is you're welcome to send your own people over here to see how his story relates to what happened to your own 'mechs. The other part…" She paused, her gaze lowering down and to the corner of the screen, as if trying to figure out how to tell her child she's getting divorced, or some other long-term bad news.

"All our 'mechs are still infected with the same virus. Or some kind of similar code that allows whoever's in control of it to flip the switch and turn off our gun cams at will. Either there's something a lot more serious coming, or someone wants to continue to hide the presence of who these commandos responsible for the Langley Affair actually work for." Lapointe's eyes narrowed into tiny white lines of concealed rage mixed with concealed momentary panic.

She continued. "Hopefully your techs will have better luck with the virus than ours, given your resources, but it's safe to say there's going to be another attack on something. Most likely treatment plants, but there's no guarantee at this point. The only sure thing is it's going to happen again. Nobody has located any of the commandos that escaped, so I'd bet my 'mech on them hitting something again." Her stone-cold expression implied total confidence in that statement.

"Thank you, Major. Captain. Thank you both. This is obviously bad, but perhaps you're right. We might catch a lucky break. The RoughRiders can afford to have a 'mech or two out of combat rotations for an extended period until we find the virus. Our men are already on high-alert, but this gives me a valid reason to keep them from getting complacent. We haven't caught our saboteur yet. It's a little easier to blend-in with a force as large as ours. If you get any word from Captain J.J., please let me know ASAP."

"Will do, LC. Captain, anything you want to add?" A brief pause while the man on the other side of the screen racked his brain for a moment.

"Two things. One, obviously this all pertains to our Militia tanks and the lance of 'mechs we have too, so we'll work on it on our own end too. Two. Call me crazy, but since the man you detained isn't necessary to shut down our gun cams anymore, and they haven't made any further attempts to contact him…" another brief pause, and for a moment LaPointe might know what he was getting at.

"Captain, are you implying we attempt to bait the commandos by pretending our cams are offline again?" He asked the young man.

"Not exactly, sir, but that's an idea worth exploring as well. What I was thinking is since we already know there's going to be another attack, is there a way we could figure out the source of the signal or signals once the virus comes back to life? Maybe we could find out who's pushing the button on the other end."

 _Kid doesn't belong in liaison duty. Kid belongs in intelligence._ LaPointe dabbed his towel around his head while nodding. "Yes, that's an idea. I'll get with my officers and chief techs and we'll see if we can find a way to trace the signal back instead of worrying about the virus itself. That doesn't solve our original problem, but if we find another solution to that, we'll let you know. If that's all for now, I need a damn shower. Thanks, to both of you, on behalf of the RoughRiders," he finished, adding a respectful nod which both returned before each image winked out individually.

And then Emily's image came back on a split second later. "Sorry LC, I almost forgot. I wanted to ask about the status of my pilots in your care. And," she couldn't help breaking out into a grin. "What would you like to trade for an almost brand-new _Warhammer?_ " LaPointe grinned at Major Wright's latest catch, grateful it wasn't any of his own rides this time.

"Major, that sounds right up my alley. Call me this afternoon and we'll hash out the details. Your two pilots are awake, and the doc says the woman can return to combat duty in a few more days. The man—Mc'somethingorother. Best he sits the rest of your garrison duty out, but he'll be okay."

"Thanks, LC. Call you later. Out." LaPointe was half-expecting the screen to come back to life one more time. _Kid's got a lot of potential, if she doesn't get herself killed out here first. Now, time for that damn shower._


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

May 9th, 3025

Parliament Hall

Mach 'Beh

Alshayra continent

Suk II

Orsula Alvarez strolled down the hall leading to the Ministry of Safekeeping's conference room, taking in the shy attempts at side glances as the people to the right walked by. She could easily shoot them a side glance of her own but decided to keep things dignified and let them gawk. Her garments today were slightly less flattering, but no less impressive to the masses. Her toga was rather loose compared to the dresses she preferred, and lacked the grandiose train normally trailing behind her, but she wore it well, giving just the slightest glimpse of the top of her cleavage and a peak at the lower halves of her smooth, toned calves. Other accessories were modest, as a stateswoman ought to be, but the power she commanded over the people who walked by was nearly absolute simply by her title, reputation, and rather intimidating beauty.

She was dressed for work, and her work involved keeping relations between the Militia, the people, and the government stable, lest parliament lose control over such a vast number of people mainly focused on a single landmass. General order and security were the order of the day, and she was about to address some of those concerns very publicly. A few select journalists and their crews were invited to cram themselves into the room with a very large polished hickory table, lots of chairs and microphones, and…not much else.

The seal of Suk II's government, a monument with a tree wrapped around it and a pair of LTV-4 hover tanks facing at an oblique angle towards the viewer, all on the background of a green circle representing the planet was the only wall decoration anywhere in the room. The person who sat in front of that large symbol would be Orsula, the current head of the Ministry of Safekeeping.

As she entered the room with her aide behind her, everyone remained seated per the usual custom, but all the cameras turned to her. Everyone else, except for one other person and their aide, had already taken their places in the now-cramped room with so much media present. Various experts and staff for Orsula and the last person to arrive for this much-anticipated showdown were all sitting across from each other, forming a very-obvious two-sides of the debate about to ensue.

 _But it'll be on my turf,_ Orsula thought to herself. She smiled, mainly directed at the people in the room and no one in particular, but also to half cover up the excitement at meeting her political rival for the first time since the election. The election she lost, months ago.

Everyone greeted her once she was seated, and as she was passing around hellos and nods and some waves to people she couldn't reach for a handshake, the room went quiet as Sharon Huyck, the Prime Minister of Suk II walked in. The highest-ranking official on the entire planet, she was dubbed "The Grandmother of Alshayra" for her work on this continent specifically for the last twenty-two years.

Old enough to be her mother, she lacked the natural beauty Orsula's Puerto Rican heritage lent her. Her hair was white, her frame slightly hunched and frail-looking, and the lines in her face were far deeper than Orsula's, but the unseen aura of authority and comfort she radiated throughout the room would have blown up a thermal scanner.

 _Everyone feels more at ease with her in the room, except me._ Orsula smiled her flawless Grade-A _I'm at your service_ smile as Huyck sat down and the cameras went from Huyck to an even framing of the two of them sitting across from each other. _It's on, bitch._

"Thank you for coming, Prime Minister. We haven't seen each other so close since January," she said, conveniently not mentioning the election day she came _so close_ to winning on. "All settled in, I hope? There's a lot going on the surface of our great planet, like so many locusts in little swarms all around trying to take what's ours."

The most microscopic wince immediately buried under a warm grin. _One to nothing. I'm not pulling any punches today, Sharon. Are you?_

"Yes, it's safe to say everyone's got themselves established, so let's get right down to it. The purpose of this meeting is to also inform the public, which is why we've invited all the media to this conference today. I want them to know we've got the situation under control. First, a little disclaimer." The 'grandmother' turned to face the cameras head-on. "Yes, we lost almost 1,600 people during these surprise raids. Every single person's life lost is a tragedy, and we will address that, but the point of this meeting is to address future concerns. The past, however recent, will be taken care of as soon as we're able to do it properly." She calmly and meticulously turned back to Orsula, giving that statement time to sink in. "So, Ms. Alvarez, let the people hear what you've got."

 _Throw the ball back to me to show you're a team player, but not before getting a jab in, and letting everyone know you're clearly in charge here. One to one._ "First and foremost, everyone still has plenty of water to drink. The raids on the plants a few weeks ago, which has been dubbed 'The Langley Affair' by the people, has destroyed five large treatment plants and two smaller ones. The smaller ones were located directly in the city meant to service some of the hot springs this city was built around. The five larger ones handled water flow to industrial hubs in and around the capitol but were actually located far outside it, typically near the western mountains.

"Water lines between the plants were completely untouched. A few months and the plants themselves will be fully restored or fully rebuilt elsewhere. We've already finished contracts with multiple companies overseeing repair and replacement, and new safeguards to protect the more volatile chemicals used in the treatment process will be added as well. Things like additional barriers to absorb explosion, more fire protection redundancy, that sort of thing. Also, Prime Minister, I move that the two plants near the center of town that were hit be bulldozed and memorial parks for the fallen take their place, never to be built over again."

"Very good, consider it done." Huyck said, maneuvering the conversation in a way that didn't let Orsula run away with the topic. "What about the remaining plants? What have we done to increase security at those sites?"

"The RoughRiders, our main mercenary contract and the most heavily-armed forces on the planet have shifted their garrison forces with an absolute top priority of protecting the plants. Protecting them was already their intention from the beginning of these pirate insurgencies, though given the nature of how they landed on-planet, the RoughRiders had to cover a lot of different areas to figure out which landing sites were decoys, and which ones were real. Now they have a far better idea what they're up against, and have adjusted accordingly."

Orsula turned to the most camera-heavy side of the table again. "Obviously neither I nor the Prime Minister can give these kinds of details out publicly. But I want you to know that our remaining water plants are safe. The tools used to accomplish the first raid across the planet are no longer going to work. We're on to them. And the RoughRiders, with our Militia, are on guard."

"So, we've pulled forces from our mining districts in order to accommodate the treatment plants. Fair, but this planet still needs its industry, with or without insurgents crawling around. I also hear we've lost a few of our own to these particular forces. What's changed since the RoughRiders have moved their assets to protect the treatment plants?"

 _Swing and a miss, Huyck. Trying to put the loss of a few Militia on my shoulders._ "You'll be happy to hear that not all the insurgents were happy about the plant raids, which were carried out without their knowledge. One such unit is working for us now, and has already done some serious damage to the insurgents in the area around Triple-M's district." Orsula motioned to Orlianne, sitting at her left, and he handed a picture contained on a data pad to her. With a confident swipe of her finger, the picture of the headless _Dervish_ displayed above the table between the two women, rotating the beheaded 'mech for all to see.

"This 'mech _used_ to be piloted by someone belonging to 'Jawbone's Jester's.' Part of a larger unit, this 'mech was disabled along with a larger one while two others more powerful than this one were captured in a brilliant trap laid out by our newest hire under the Militia's wing, known as the 1st Iron Coyotes. They used 'mechs typically about half the size of these enemy 'mechs to trap them, but it was our own 3rd Cavalry Company as well as our own Captain Sokolov and his Militia dropship, the S.M. Prometheus, that laid this 'mech to waste just a few days ago.

"It's worth mentioning that while the trap was laid out by the Coyotes, half or better of the friendly forces in that fight belonged to the Militia. While it was their idea, this _Dervish_ you see before you was eliminated in a single volley from four of the LTV hover tanks you see on our Planetary seal. Our own men and women brought this one down, and were largely responsible for the damage to his bigger brother, who decided to go out in a blaze of glory."

A second later, and the entire room either gasped, whooped, or clapped at the image now displaying the destroyed _Orion_ side-by-side with the headless _Dervish_. The _Orion_ also had little of its head, but mainly due to the ejection and subsequent execution in mid-air of its pilot. Normally a tall, boxy, angular design with two tube arms with various weapons, as well as plenty of its weapons in the shoulders, this particular _Orion_ had neither arm fully intact, and the legs and torso resembled something more like an apple that was eaten to its core in most places. Jagged, shredded metal hung from every opening. Somehow the ammunition hadn't exploded, but had nonetheless looked like it was gutted from every side possible.

Whoever gave the image to Alvarez also added some random spark effects where obvious electrical conduits hung along with pieces of its innards, for dramatic effect.

"Needless to say, both insurgent pilots are KIA, and the other two were captured by the Coyotes and our own 3rd Cavalry." A slow clap started ensuing throughout the media crew and some staff on both sides, and Huyck let it roll on for a few moments. Alvarez simply sat back and crossed her arms, as if to imply _yep, I'm responsible for all that. I'll leave out the part where they got ransomed back to their unit._

"Well done to all our military who participated in this. From the person who fired the first killing blow to this 'mech," the grandmother said, pointing at the _Dervish_ , "to the men and women who kept our tanks in working order, to the ones who fed them chow that morning. They were all a part of this accomplishment. Which one did we get as part of our salvage agreement?"

"The bigger one, Prime Minister." Orsula nodded at the _Orion._ Technically it _was_ bigger, but what remained of it weighed far less than what was left of the _Dervish_.

"Excellent. Perhaps we could add this to your idea of memorial parks in the city. The people can decide which one it should go in as a monument and how it should be displayed as a reminder that no wrongdoing goes unpunished on this planet." More cheers and claps from around the room. Orsula even respectfully joined in, looking solemn and respectful as opposed to Huyck's cheerful smile."

 _Alright, probably not gonna beat you today old woman, but I'm just getting started._

"Okay, on to the next topic. Spaceport defense…"

Firebase Yankee

Mercury Metals and Mining district

Continent of New Syria

"Wow, that's laying it on pretty thick." Lewis Mcintosh groaned and made a specific hand motion that looked like a circle with a dot in the middle. His holovid's sensors picked up on the movement as the cue to turn off the screen for him, though he'd gladly get up and do it himself if it didn't break his head doing it.

"Yeah. They gave us a good share of the credit though to be fair, and we needed them to pull it off. They need this lil' PR stunt more than we do." Emily sat next to his bed, idly wondering where she could score a hospital cot to stay the night. The ride over by VTOL had been bumpy and exhausting.

"Nice score though, boss lady. Err, Major." He was still pretty young and shy when it came to women, especially athletic and confident ones like Emily. His head injury probably wasn't helping him out that he was crushing on his C.O. who was also a lesbian. "Heard you might trade the _'Hammer_ over to LaPointe?

"Yeah, we got a second _Treb_ _5-N_ out of it, and with the _Cat_ we got that brings us up to over a hundred LRMs we can sling at something if the going gets rough. Needless to say, we're stocking up on those like its candy. We can afford it now. LaPointe's gonna help us get the replacement head for the _Dervish_ so that'll put us in the black for this campaign so far. Anyway, how long did the doc say you needed?"

"He didn't sugar-coat it. Cerebral contusion. Big ol' bruise in my brain. He said anywhere from one month to a year, and to stay out of a 'mech for now unless you're moving it from one 'mech bay to another. Will I still get paid during that, Major?"

She smiled like a reassuring mother. "Of course. It's in your contract. Convalescent leave and all that. Don't rush it, or it might backfire permanently. You're only twenty-eight. You have your whole life to jump around in 'mechs like an idiot. You'd better keep crossing your fingers I don't get us all blown up before then."

"Heard they're calling me Granite now."

Emily gave a look that resembled _hey, it wasn't my idea._ "Personally, I would have gone with Anchor, or Stonewall, like that general in one of those civil wars back on ancient Terra before we went space cadet."

"Jackson. Stonewall Jackson. Confederate leader, American Civil War. Eighteen sixty unnnhhhhh…" Granite put his hand up to his bandaged forehead and leaned back in his pillow.

"And despite all that you kept your 'mech vertical and walked all the way to this here slice of heaven, after all that." She gestured at the medical tent around it and the spartan comforts of home it offered, like keeping you clean and dry for longer than fifteen minutes. "I'd say that's worthy of being called a piece of a dumb, hard rock that's real stubborn. Consider it a callsign." She gave his arm a little friendly jab and stood.

"I'm gonna find an open bed to rack out in before I head back tomorrow. Consider yourself on fully-paid leave. We'll get you back in a 'mech eventually, just don't rush it, hero. You've already done plenty for us."

He smiled sheepishly. Emily looked around for some sort of a safety pin and something flashy. She found the pin not too far, and took a piece of a reflective backing off of a medical electrode.

She took the pin, stuck it through the piece of glossy backing and stuck the whole thing to Mcintock's hospital gown. "We don't have any official medals or anything with regards to the unit itself, but that's no reason we can't come up with something appropriate and formalize it later. Consider yourself the first recipient of the 1st Iron Coyotes' Stonewall Ribbon. For actions showing superior piloting skill and personal resolve in the face of chaos." She thought about it a moment, pursing her lips to the side in serious deep thought. "And we'll add something about refusing to quit and other such fluff to make it look real good back home, k?"

He chuckled with her. "Thanks Major. Go get some sleep. I'll let Vi know you were looking for her. Pretty sure she's drinking with some of the double-R's right now."

"Seeya tomorrow, Granite." She turned off the lights and walked out, searching for her own piece of heaven called a bed laying around somewhere.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

May 10th, 3025

North of Triple-M district

New Syria

Suk II

Pearl shook her head, feeling the neurohelmet pads rub against the side of her face for what felt like the 148th time today. She blinked off the small amount of sweat beading over her eyes. "Flock lance, I really hope you have something good for me soon, cause I'm more likely to die of boredom than anything else at this point."

Despite the lack of any action, Mother Hen was glad to be back in her 'mech again. All the new responsibilities Emily had dumped on her recently as the XO was really getting on her nerves, and she needed to just _ride_ again. Motorcycle riders called this "wind therapy," but the only breeze she might get was a hot one, unless she ejected. Her lance mates, in both _Firebees_ and the _Firefly_ , were up ahead taking a very cautious approach through some of the more deciduous trees of the northern forests of New Syria.

History was her minor at the Nagelring Academy, before she dropped out. It mentioned some of the imported seeds from Terra that made their way across most of the Inner Sphere. She guessed some of the more Mediterranean trees were imported to this particular continent, where they thrived around Seldiran Forest, where they were currently investigating. It wasn't as swampy as it was down on Gimli, but the trees were pretty large and blocked most of the wind, making any breeze along the surface just skim over the tops of them.

Her _Trebuchet's_ cockpit was mildly warm, feeling more like someone had left a space heater on low heat in the springtime than anything. They had been patrolling for the better part of three hours in this area, some fifty kilometers north of "Triple M" mining district. Starting with the place they last fought, her lance followed a winding path of heavy 'mech tracks up and down the winding hills that laid themselves out on the western slopes of the Steever Mountain Range. An impressive and very steep range of cliff faces that dropped off into the channel, she read in the footnote of a book about Suk II's geography having one of the largest glaciers of any terraformed planet.

 _That glacier now belongs to the planet's ocean, occasionally flowing back through this channel it had formed._

The mountain range on the west side of an ocean channel dividing Alshayra from New Syria stretched across the entire channel. _Combined with a fairly recent tectonic collision, some of the lopsided cliffs managed to reach as tall as Mt. Everest on Terra, hence the anagram._ It was distracting to look at in all its majesty, even after hours of having that background on the right side of her 'mech's viewscreen, seemingly stretching on ad infinitum.

 _Either way, it beats looking at tree after tree for hours. Now I get trees_ and _mountains._ She shook her head. _This was getting reeeeally boring._ _Murphy's Law should be kicking any…no? Oh c'mon Murphy!_ _Well, at least we have an idea where they came from. That's something we can take back to base._

"Alright guys, time to pack it in. Swing due one-seven-zero, let's go back along the trail we took. Presto, take the rear. Break into pairs, split-diamond formation. _Bees_ together, usual right side, Camel on point. Keep it tight until we reach the edge of the woods, then spread out to about half a click each.

Some a series of double-clicks on her helmet's ear confirmed the order. Presto, Heretic, and Camel all formed up in their respective places in a rough diamond formation. The two _Firebees_ took front and right. A fresh surge of adrenaline added to her perspiration as the excitement of heading to a place her friends and allies were all at, along with the general changeup to doing something new. At least for a few minutes.

"Contact, bearing two-seven-seven, max range one click." Heretic's smooth baritone voice got her attention. "Moving to get a better look."

"Copy. Camel, give him some backup. Presto, stay with me. I'll work on an angle for LRM's."

"Roger." Presto's thick Italian accent and general flair when he finished a task sooner than expected earned him that callsign. The rather diverse ethnic background led to several in the Coyotes offering to change the company name to "1st Iron Salad Bowl," but Emily had politely refused. And then gave them an extra half-hour of 'mech cleaning detail.

A PPC shot screamed between the trees and over the shoulder of Heretic as he closed in carefully. "Plus two contacts, makes three. PPC went high and wide. First contact is a…" A brief pause. " _Locust_." One of the more infamous lights of the Inner Sphere, it was also one of the faster 'mechs without jump jets, easily reaching speeds over a hundred and twenty kph, but going _that_ fast usually meant sending the pilot for a jarring ride. Bird-like, rearward-facing legs that often felt as thin as an actual bird's legs made it look more like a large metal mosquito without wings than an actual locust.

Despite the cramped cockpit and meager protection it had at twenty tons, it was still useful for scouting roles, but it typically needed backup close-by if it was going to put up a fight. Apparently this one carried a PPC that was fired on the move, because that shot didn't even come close.

"Can't get a read on the other two yet. Might be using some kind of cammo or something. Whoa!" Another PPC shot came a lot closer this time, passing just over the shoulder of Heretic's _Firebee_ , slamming charged ions into a nearby boxwood tree and sending arcs of blue and white into the branches. For a moment, the tree looked almost spherical, divided into halves of green and blueish white. Several small birds fell from its branches, cooked by the discharge meant for walking tanks, and not small life forms.

A single PPC by itself wasn't actually that dangerous to most 'mechs, but one lucky shot on a light 'mech and it could be game over for any of them. Only Mother Hen had enough armor on her _Treb_ to withstand a single hit without issue at fifty tons. _Unless it was the head,_ she thought.

"Okay, we've made contact. Let's not get stuck in a long firefight." Pearl glanced at the two yellow brackets in the distance on her Heads-Up-Display. "Get a readout on the other two 'mechs and let's start backing off." Trying to reach out with her missiles, she kept floating her crosshairs over the location of the _Locust_ , relayed back by Heretic's sensors. Every time she came close to a lock, it would fade out again. "We can't get a good line-of-sight for our LRM's. Everyone break off and see if he follows you." _Goddamnit, what are those contacts already?_

She turned her 'mech due south with the rest of them and pushed into her foot pedals a little deeper to get some speed. Ahead of them lay a few more square kilometers of trees, shrubbery, and vines with a few sporadic beams of daylight, and beyond it, freedom.

 _"Marauder!"_ Presto's near-panicked voice was due to the sudden realization of a seventy-five-tonner being within firing range. With two PPC's in its arms for easy aiming and a long-barreled AC-5 up on its right shoulder amounted to pretty much triple the killing power of the _Locust_ , with more than half of a _Locust's_ weight in just armor, allowing it to very possibly go solo against Pearl's entire lance, if it was a solid shot. _And it had one more friend._

"Get as many trees between you and that _Marauder_ as physically possible, now _!_ Fall back to the edge of the woods! When you get there, turn and cover the rest of us!" Pearl turned directly away from the almost-big-enough-to-be-an-assault 'mech and hit a button on her console. Tiny vibrations on either side of her cockpit went _pop_ , and a large net slung over the back of her _Treb_ came free, dropping close to a dozen now-armed seismic-activated mines that would either deter or disable the perusing _Marauder_.

 _Or it'll kill the Locust and still deter the big guy,_ Pearl silently hoped. She then put her feet into the pedals as hard as they would allow without triggering a jump sequence and fought the back-and-forth momentum like a bull rider as she slalomed around tree after tree. The terrain at the floor of the forest was clearer than the jungle, which made for easier running.

The _Locust_ pilot thought so, too. And given how aggressively he was pursuing everyone, the chance of his other friend being very large was also very likely at this point. Another PPC went shot wide of Heretic's _Firebee_ , off to the right of Pearl's HUD, but the _Locust_ pilot didn't seem to care much. Two more PPC shots from the _Marauder_ reached out and created a huge amount of electrical and ionic power going straight into the left arm of Heretic.

The entire thing was split off at the bicep, and went flying into a nearby tree. Heretic managed to catch himself at a jogging pace, regaining his balance, then managed to swerve around another tree. Pearl's eyes widened at the amazing piloting display, and checked in.

"You ok, Heretic?"

Some struggled grunting from the other end. "Yes'm. Gimmie a sec. I need some cover, guys."

An autocannon round splintered one of the bigger trees near him, then split a smaller one in half. One of two more PPC shots grazed his right leg, sending brief arcs across it.

"Keep moving! The _Marauder's_ probably getting pretty warm already." A lot of a 'mech's heat dissipation gets negated if the 'mech is moving fast, and this 'mech could have a top speed of forty to sixty-five kph depending on if it was customized or not. The enemy pilot would have to decide on not cooling down as quickly between shots, or losing more distance between them. The rest of Pearl's lance could get away easily once they cleared the tree line. Her _Treb_ on the other hand, topped out at just over eighty kph as-is. And there was still plenty of reach on those bigger guns the _Marauder_ had.

"Mother, last 'mech is a _Phoenix Hawk_." _Not good. He's faster than me and can cripple me if we don't get him first. Shit._ A very humanoid design that looked like it had some kind of jet pack on its back and held a large laser in its right hand, the forty-five-tonner was fast and had good firepower. Usually in the form of lasers and some SRM's. It typically ran hot, though. If it fired one too many vollies while chasing, it was a sitting duck.

"Stick with the plan, guys. Get to the edge of the forest." Turning around another pair of deadwoods wrapped around each other, she saw the clearing up ahead. The small bunch of mines she dropped appeared as a tiny purple blip on her map, from the transponder hooked up to one of them. The _Hawk_ was closing in on her directly from behind, but that also meant he was closing in on the mines. It looked almost like a collision course.

"Scratch that! New plan! Turn around and get ready to blast that _Hawk_. He's headed for my mines!" She slowed and turned around, the ground giving way slightly but the treads on her feet holding firm. The _Locust,_ off to what was now her left side and less than two hundred meters away, snapped a PPC shot wide and immediately turned to bank away as Pearl brought her own medium lasers to bear. One clipped his "ear" of a left arm, but didn't penetrate.

 _My paycheck for a god damn LRM lock just_ once _today!_ Heat allowed its way in the cockpit, as if someone changed the space heater into a large floor dryer and put it on high. To answer Pearl's maneuver, the _Marauder_ pilot slowed briefly to aim the two stubby PPC's mounted to two very skinny, almost cartoonish-looking arms. Both of them were aimed right at her _Treb's_ chest.

She tried to turn her torso to spread some of the damage to her 'mech, but the shots came too quickly. Both slammed at her right in the center, creating a massive gouge and making her HUD flicker for a moment. The momentum knocked her back slightly, but she was able to brace herself on her back leg. Her damage monitor showed a deep cherry red crater in her center torso. Fortunately, none of her LRM's were stored there, nor the launchers themselves.

"Shit! Hang on'a Mamma Hen!" Presto, who's voice had the urgency of a boy who had seen his own mother get punched in the stomach, came running. Winding through trees, he managed to get off a single large laser hit from his right arm on the _Marauder_ at max range. The _Hawk_ , firing its own large laser in _its_ own right hand, looked like a larger mirror image, as it scored a blue beam across Pearl's right leg. A nasty scar in the center of the thigh dripped molten metal just above the knee before congealing again. Her chest had been breached, but everything inside remained intact, for now.

And then the _Hawk_ hit the spot Pearl was hoping for. As the 'mech's top half jerked sideways in what must have been a last-minute realization, the very last of the Coyote's mines went off in a crescendo of dull thumps as the _Hawk's_ right foot was turned into a stump. A huge cloud of dust and dirt swelled instantly up to the 'mech's hips. Metal went in every direction, leaving various tattoos and piercings on all the nearby trees like they had suddenly joined a punk band.

The mines didn't do much else, but getting the foot was enough. The _Hawk_ kept running over the explosion onto its left foot, then took another step…and tumbled forward out of the cloud of dirt onto on its right side. Its own weight crushed the large laser in its hand, as well as most of the entire arm.

"Everyone stop for two seconds, get a good volley on that _Hawk_ and get the _hell_ out of here!" For the first time today, her LRM crosshairs in the shape of a large group of circles went from golden to red, and she let loose thirty missiles in a blackish-grey cloud of smoke. The large lasers from both _Firebees_ and most of the lasers from Presto's _Firefly_ etched red, green, and blue beams into both the fallen _Hawk_ and the surrounding shrubbery, starting many small fires. Fires that would likely spread quickly around the crippled 'mech.

"Break and run! Now!" She kicked one leg out and spun on the other, doing a near-perfect one-eighty turn as the _Marauder_ launched another volley strike on her. All three main weapons created triangle of ionized, explosive death going sailing past her, with one PPC shot clipping the back of her right elbow, fusing it in place.

As she started to gain speed, she switched to her rear camera as there were no trees ahead of her at the moment to worry about. The _Marauder_ had overheated itself, having fired maybe a half-dozen PPC shots and several autocannon shots in less than thirty seconds. Either panic, rage, or just a simple miscalculation on the heat gauge had caused the last volley to push it way beyond a simple overheat warning and went straight into a shutdown. It sagged forward, still standing but unable to do anything until the Coyotes were already long gone.

"Big guy's cooking. Time to go! There's no way the _Locust_ is gonna leave his friends, especially the _Hawk._ Good shooting, Coyotes. Let's get home." Presto, now more audibly calm, offered a solo howl as they ran.

As if to offer a final insult, the _Locust_ fired it's PPC one last time at Pearl and hit the elbow previously weakened by his comrade, and what was left hanging began to dangle and sway, held on by myomer muscle and nothing else. As the remaining muscles in her bicep continued contracting and relaxing in the running cycle, the forearm began to flop back and forth, lacking any rigidity, weakening it further.

Finally, the whole forearm snapped off, taking the pair of medium lasers with it to the ground a few hundred meters further away as both sides decided to call it a battle. _If they were shooting the other arm with the hand on it, I'd happily have left the middle-finger extended before it broke,_ Pearl thought while smirking.

Hours later, the sun was setting, and they had settled to a fast walk after getting enough distance between themselves and their new rivals. After arriving with some brief welcome home waving and gestures from the ground, all the members of "The Flock" had found an open makeshift gantry to park their 'mech at.

Backing up slowly while various people threw thick cables of wire and rope around the front of her 'mech to cinch it in place for now, Pearl hit the various buttons that began the shutdown sequence. Doing her ritual double-pat on her chest to beat off some of the tension and see if she had any serious bruises from the ride, she unstrapped herself and climbed out.

Waiting below her on the ground was a very worried-looking Emily, visibly relieved Pearl came out with all her limbs still attached. Emily held the rope ladder thrown down more as a courtesy than anything, and both of them embraced deeply when she reached the bottom.

"Geez hun, look at the size of this hole!" Emily swept her arm upwards at the _Treb,_ and the almost two-meter wide black crater dead center of its chest. Pearl finally got a good look at it for the first time.

"Whoa. Uh…" She looked back at Emily sheepishly. The right arm had various wires and pieces of shrapnel hanging from the remains of the bicep, and walking back home after getting far enough from their foes without that counterweight had been a semi-wobbly experience from time to time. "Sorry, I guess? Beats being dead," she offered with a shrug.

Emily simply answered that by taking her face in her hands and pulling her up for a deep, long, sweaty kiss. Various techs and lookers-on offered hoots and catcalls and some mild clapping came from the gantry. They embraced each other for a moment, letting all things unspoken pass between them, as if they shared their understanding through osmosis.

"Let me debrief you so we can try and pinpoint their base," Emily suggested. Then she put her mouth down to Pearl's ear, speaking softly. "Then let me debrief you again after you've had a shower. Or we could just kill two birds with one stone and debrief in the shower. I've got the key to the doors."


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

May 12, 3025

Camp Bow Wow II

New Syria

Suk II

 _These conference calls are getting more crowded every time,_ Emily thought as he stood next to her liaison. He was Captain Miles Daniels, a tall and lanky but nonetheless handsome man whose field uniform looked a half-size too tight. _Compensating? It does wrap around him nicely, though._ They stood in front of a small video screen currently split down the middle. LC LaPointe was on the right, and Hauptmann David Ketchum, the Militia commander for the whole planet, was on the left. Both had this look of _please make this quick, or have a really good plan in mind, or stop wasting our time_ about them.

Emily was no diplomat, but she learned how to be a shrewd negotiator. She probably had about ten seconds to really make her introduction count, or she'd have to figure out how to assault an enemy base with half the firepower they had.

"Morning, gentlemen. I'll make this quick. Two days ago, we made contact with the main mercenary force threatening the Triple-M district. Yesterday we confirmed their location with a second recon op, and I asked to talk with both of you today to figure out the best way to bag these guys and capture two lances of 'mechs."

LaPointe seemed grumpier than the last time they spoke, when he got a slightly better end of the stick while trading for the _Warhammer_ Emily captured. He said nothing, simply nodding while holding a long blink. Ketchum was genuinely interested, being more straightforward and not having to worry about contract negotiations as much.

She pushed a button on the laptop and the screen changed to a general slideshow of the images they gathered that would display on everyone's screens. Clothesline and two of the three _Fire Javelin_ brothers had managed to get much close in the middle of the night, at one point going on foot to get even closer. Camel had tagged along as a guide in his _Firebee_ until Romeo healed up, but he was worn out from a double march in two days.

"The 'mechs we scouted are primarily set up for long range fire support. My assumption is that they were a little more dependent on the lance "Jawbone" was commanding before we captured them." _Some of them, anyway._

"The photos and files I sent you last night show four heavy 'mechs, two mediums and two lights, all but one in good condition. Two _Locusts_ , one _Phoenix Hawk_ , one _Vindicator,_ one _Rifleman_ , one _Jagermech_ , one _Lancelot_ , and one _Marauder._ No tanks or support vehicles aside from a couple maintenance vehicles and several large all-terrain trucks they used to loot a large chunk of the good stuff from Triple-M. Infantry seems to be sparse, but we only got one side of their compound, so there could be more, but we counted two platoons, primarily as sentries and guards for the 'mechs themselves.

Emily realized she didn't have that luxury and was relying on a more perimeter-focused guard detail. _That's going to change as soon as this call is over,_ she promised herself.

"What I am proposing is a joint-op with all three of us, with my force acting as bait and the Militia and RoughRider forces landing north of the forest along the coastline. The Coyotes could approach from either the east or the west, making it look like we bit off more than we could chew while bringing them north to you."

She pushed another button and the slideshow ended, showing everyone's faces on all their screens again. "We're looking at about eight kilometers of dense forest between the coastline and the edge of their compound. Our east/west approach gives the Coyotes more forest to get concealed before getting danger close. Comments?"

Daniels looked like he wanted to say something, but kept his mouth shut until the senior officers said their peace. LaPointe cleared his throat and said "you've clearly done your homework on this. The best the RoughRiders could offer is a two-lance dropship insertion and light air support, and this plan seems to accommodate that. We can't pull more than that from our own reserves for more than a couple of hours, given our commitment to all the water treatment plants. His eyes shifted slightly, as if he was looking at Ketchum to see what he had to say. _Don't call him ketchup. Don't call him ketchup._ Emily repeated the mantra in her head.

"Hauptman Ketchum, what do you think?" LaPointe spoke before she could. _Whew._ "Could we borrow that _Leopard_ of yours again with a lance of lights?" The Militia forces were primarily tanks and infantry, with two lances of 'mechs. One was a medium lance set up as urban defenders and general honor-guard for more official ceremonies. The other was a lance of lights set up with their _Leopard_ for reinforcing a tank company that came under fire anywhere on the planet.

HP Ketchum nodded, a crack of a grin breaking through the right side of his mouth. "I might have a different offer, but for now I could probably cram a platoon of anti-armor infantry with my light lance that could help crack the bigger 'mechs, but that would require baiting them closer to the coastline. They won't be mechanized, so I wouldn't rely on them as much during the planning portion of this assault. Sarna beach has a decent sized field beyond it that should give everyone a decent LZ for coming in hot without tons of sand getting blown into their joints. Anything else is pretty dense up there. Not suitable for a reinforced company of 'mechs coming in at different intervals."

Emily interjected next. "This all sounds doable. I'm grateful for your assistance. Captain Daniels has a proposal for us in regards for compensating the RoughRiders for their assistance on this op, as this is primarily the Coyotes' area of operations at the moment."

Daniels finally piped up. "Given the MRB requires a clause for an adjustment in salvage rights in the case of…if I'm remembering the lingo right…"pre-planned operations involving one or more third-parties in the assumption of risk that were not previously agreed upon in the contract." _Woof, that was a mouthful,_ Emily thought silently. "Given three separate forces will be all taking some manner of risk, with the Coyotes in the most danger, I propose 50% salvage rights to the Coyotes, 33% to the RoughRiders, and 17% to the Militia."

LaPointe was stone-faced. "forty/ten, as we're bringing about three quarters of the firepower necessary to reinforce the Coyotes. This op is quite far away from the Militia's logistical base, so most of the loot that can be carried by the _Leopard_ will be offset by fuel costs. We'll be likely bringing two _Unions,_ giving the illusion that we have two companies reinforcing instead of two lances, so we'll have room to spare. We'll also be using some VTOLs for medevacs." _Clever idea,_ Emily thought to herself. If she broke a tiny smile at that one, she couldn't be sure.

Counter-negotiations were above Daniels' pay grade, so Ketchum took over. "Thirty-five/fifteen, and instead of cluttering up the Sarna LZ even more for a lance of lights, we'll bring the entire 3rd Cavalry with the Coyotes as part of the backup, making the assault seem more authentic. They're fast enough they can withdraw in good order." _Ooh, now there's an idea._

LaPointe was still rock-like, his eyes closing in deep thought. "Seems reasonable," he finally said after a long moment. "The RoughRiders can be ready tonight. Dropship insertion makes us pretty flexible on the timetable. Major?"

Emily decided to do her own moment of silence, more for dramatic effect than anything. "Hauptmann, I suggest giving the 3rd Cav a few hours to get some sleep in before tonight. 0100 is always my favorite time of day. Dropship insertion at…" she paused, closing her own eyes in thought as her brain bounced around different statistics, 'mech speeds, rough terrain data, light and weather conditions to figure out how to achieve maximum surprise for maximum surrender. "0113."

LaPointe's head actually tilted to the side, much like a dog trying to get a better perspective. "That's awfully optimistic for eight kilometers of a fighting withdrawal in a different direction, at night, through a forest. You positive about that, Major?"

Emily nodded, looking back and forth at Daniels next to her and Ketchum on the screen. "Yes, LC. I intend to use the 3rd cavalry as the back door that closes behind them you slam the front door in their face. Sound good?"

LaPointe did his own mental map wizardry and said "Actually, yes, that sounds very good. Just make sure you don't get bogged down before we come in. Let's get with our people and hash this out and we can do the final details at…" he glanced down, obviously checking his watch. "1400."

Everyone agreed and signed off. Emily turned to Daniels, grinning. "Well then, Captain. Let's go tell the 3rd Cav we get to be best buds again."

Daniels smiled, saluted, and walked off. Emily grabbed her radio on her hip. "Clothesline, Mother Hen, this is Dirk. Meet up in the office." She was so giddy she wanted to just blurt out "We just scored four times the firepower for this op!" but decided to wait until they had some privacy first. _Thanks Bart, for showing me how to shake 'em down._


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

May 12, 3025

Malthus Casino

Mach 'Beh

Suk II

J.J. shook the rain off, invigorated from the cold water but kept warm by the heat as he strolled past the door security who graciously opened the door for him. _Glad I'm not wearing a suit like them in this weather,_ he thought to himself as he strolled up to a craps table towards the center of the "pit," as it was typically called.

Looking around, he silently whistled to himself. _Despite their underworld reputation, these Malthus guys sure know how to build a casino._

For a Malthus Resort, which was a commercial powerhouse in almost all reaches of the Inner Sphere at this point, this one felt like a smaller, more cozy kind of place. Most Malthus Casinos were huge, almost gaudy affairs by J.J.'s standards. This one was the kind of place that felt like a place to hang out after work while the jazz pianist smiles your way and keeps playing while you enjoy a nice sandwich or dinner. Which was a good thing, because this one was just that.

The pianist, with a full suit and tie and a miraculous mop of hair down to his shoulders almost seemed to read his mind as J.J. glanced over and nodded. He nodded back, not breaking his stride on an electronic Steinway that still had the old-fashioned Terran Sitka spruce exterior. A smooth, wholesome melody played while J.J. casually tossed a hundred C-bill note on the table. It wasn't all that busy. Just a pair of newlyweds at the end of the table probably having their first newlywed argument about one of them wanting to go somewhere else instead of spending their honeymoon at a craps table. That and another guy standing next to him, sipping a Timbiqui white wine and doing little motions with his mouth to fully appreciate the taste.

J.J. that knew that from the label on the half-liter bottle tucked underneath the top of the table along the shelf. That, and because this was the man he was supposed to meet. "The lone gray-haired man drinking T.W.W. at Malthus. He lives there, so he'll be dressed casually," his most recent contact had said.

"Nice choice," J.J. said casually while receiving a large stack of red clay chips.

"Thanks. Most people don't even seem to know there's a full-blown winery on Timbiqui. World's become synonymous with their beer and that's about it." The old man next to him chuckled and toasted his glass at J.J. "So, you're the guy. Figured you'd be a little less…Drac'y. No offense."

 _People always say that right when they say something offensive._ J.J. let it slide and tossed some chips back at his nearest dealer. "Six and eight, please." The point was at 11. One half of the newlyweds more interested in the table than his new spouse and tossed the black and white dice. Minature spotlights from a ring overhead that matched the shape of the table came on and bathed both dice in their golden/white glow, tracking every bounce, never missing. As the dice finally came to a rest on a two and a five, the spotlights flashed a few times, while the newlyweds shook their heads and left as the table was cleared of all chips except one.

The only chip on the table belonged to the old man. Five hundred C-bills in the form of a little black and blue chip was given a matching one as he doubled his money. He simply toasted J.J., dropped a few chips for the dealers and grabbed the black-and-blues. "Cash me out too, please. Table got cold."

"Totally understand, sir." The dealer was respectful as he handed J.J. three solid blue chips and one solid red. Eighty C-bills.

"Congratulations on winning a half-second of HPG time," J.J. offered with a smile. C-bills represented one millisecond of time for a HPG transmission, no matter where in the universe it was sent. The nearly instantaneous Comstar transmitters were usually limited to one per planet, so they were always in demand.

Most people opted for the more efficient option of sending packets of data or letters to their friends and loved ones, but the super-rich, or the leaders of superpowers enjoyed face-to-face transmissions from one side of the Inner Sphere to the other, though it cost them dearly to do it.

A single back-and-forth conversation between interstellar leaders lasting a few minutes might cost as much as the salary of an entire world's population for a single day.

The older man turned to him and offered a drink with a gesture, which J.J. politely shook his head at. The man looked like he could be a director of the local erotic movie scene with his rather comfortable attire of a dark red bath robe and slippers. _Guess he was just really really comfortable with his self-image at his age,_ J.J. thought. _Or maybe he just didn't care anymore, but he seems classy enough to give a damn._

"You ever turn on those spotlights when it's your turn to shoot? Never liked them myself," the man said while smiling at the younger J.J. His slicked-back gray hair shined with the hair products he used. Even his gray moustache had a sheen to it. At his age his hair would still be considered nearly flawless on another planet, so J.J. figured he might be a local here.

Malthus Casinos always had the spotlights at the tables. Any traditional table game had some variation of the rings. Craps spotlights exclusively followed the dice if the shooter opted for it. Roulette had spotlights on both the ball and the spot on the table the winning number represented, as well as smaller lights for colors, various rows and adjoining spots for winning numbers. Blackjack would have spotlights for anyone who got 21, or different colors like a dim golden glow for an opportunity to split or double-down.

Part of the ambience of a Malthus Casino was a tiny amount of non-toxic vapor that would waft through the casino floor, invisible and harmless, and gave a bit of a "smoky room" feel when the special light from the spotlights shone through it.

Part of the controversy of a Malthus Casino were the tiny sensors implanted in the roulette ball and craps dice, leading to numerous accusations of cheating, despite the house already having winning odds in the long-term.

"I don't mind it, but I usually turn it off when it's my turn." _Keep it neutral. Don't let anything change this man's opinion of you for the worse,_ he would keep reminding himself. J.J. felt like he was getting more used to this private investigator routine, though he couldn't help this growing feeling behind him that he was running out of luck.

"Walk with me, son. Let me tell you about the glory days of Las Vegas on Terra."

"I've read some stories myself. A casino with a light so bright it shone into the planet's orbit, long before we could jump beyond its beam."

"Ah, the Luxor. A famous one, but I was more partial to the stories of the Freemont Street Experience. The entire street was closed off to vehicles. You could only walk there. And one end to the other had a gigantic video display for a ceiling which had shows every hour." The man took a walking sip of his wine in one hand, with the half-open bottle in the other. "What was so nice about it to me was the casinos there were a lot like this one. Homey, comfortable. Like you were hanging out in someone's really big mansion instead of a giant room."

"Can't argue with that. Have you spoken to our mutual friend in the camera business? I'd like to hear what he has to say about gun-cams. If we could score that contract when the Militia decide to renew their it next year. Then we could have our own mansions," J.J. said smiling as they made their way up a large staircase with red carpet, presumably towards the old man's hotel room. _The regulars get the first floor up. Neat._

"Yes, I've spoken to him about it recently. Not sure if we're going to get that contract, but he wants to speak to you about a few things first. He's staying with me." The old man gestured towards his room at the end of the hall. "Says he's got a bit of a doozey."

After opening the door with his thumbprint, he went in first, quickly. _Much more quickly than he's moved the entire time. What the hell?_ The hairs on the back of his neck seemed to stand up. _Something's wrong, here. The door opens inwards. He slowed down as soon as he cleared the doorway. Is there…_ "one moment please, my friend. I think I see someone I know coming up the stairs." J.J. slowly turned and began to walk back down the hallway, towards the casino floor. From behind him inside the room, a voice he didn't recognize suddenly shouted in a manner J.J. couldn't understand, so he broke into a sprint.

A lady came out from a doorway in his path and they crashed into each other. A loud _oof_ was heard from the woman as he swept her aside. The motion allowed him to glance back at the old man's door, where several heavily-armed men with various kinds of bulky weapons came out and lined up on the far side.

 _If I can just break their line of sight, I can get out of here!_ J.J. thought in a panic, when a dull pop was heard behind him and milliseconds later, a small net with padded weights pushed him forward and caused him to tumble down the stairs. The net wrapped around his arms, throwing off his center of gravity and his head smacked into a stair at a high rate of speed. Screams of surprise and panic from the nearby bar rang in his ears along with the pain of the impact. His feet were free, but they wouldn't listen to him.

The weighted pads also had small durable batteries and sensors hooked up to the net itself, allowing for electric shock if enough tension was detected on the net. J.J. struggled despite the pain in his head, but the shocks he received jumped between his teeth visibly and that was enough to get him to stop moving.

Several burly security men from the casino showed up to see what was going on at the bottom of the stairs, but the three men with the bulky weapons simply aimed them at the guards. One of the fully-armed men shouted, albeit muffled by his face guard, "P.I.D.! This man is wanted for crimes against our people, which will be revealed at a later date." The man opened a pull-down flap on his vest, showing his identification. "He's coming with us. Everyone go back to what you were doing. Sorry to bother you."

Planetary Investigation Division. The guys with all the fancy spy toys and the clearance to do almost anything they wanted with them. They were well-known, despite not wanting to be, but the people's taxes helped pay for their toys, so they just had to accept that part of the bargain.

 _That's what they say they are, anyway…_ J.J. was at least grateful he didn't say that out loud, or the pain in his head would be double or triple what it was right now. The men picked him up by his arms, still wrapped up against his sides, and casually walked towards the front door where a parked car was waiting with an open door.

As the murmurs of curiosity competed with the ringing in his ears, J.J. could look back over his shoulder one last time at the old man at the top of the stairs, toasting him with his glass and a smile.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

May 14th, 3025

North of Triple-M district

New Syria

Suk II

The countdown timer on Emily's readout decided to do a dramatic shift to the center of her vision. Apparently since there's nothing going on, my AI thought it'd be a good idea to put huuuuuge numbers in my face. 0059. 55 seconds to go.

She was about to speak, when Ifrit keyed up before she could. "OOOooOOoOoOoOoooo…"

"For the fifty-second time tonight, knock it off, Ifrit." Romeo's voice. He sounded a little more than irritated at this point. "If your 'mech is haunted, then mine would have run off on the new leg it got this morning." Both Romeo's Fire _Jav_ and Ifrit's new _Dervish_ , taken from Jawbone's lance, were both sporting a new leg and head, respectively. Romeo insisted his ribs were ready for this op.

Both had nothing but primer coatings over their rides, courtesy of the rush job and the spare parts haggled from the RoughRiders as part of the exchange for that _Warhammer_ a short while ago.

Emily had traded for that and more, including a second _Trebuchet_ that was still in the process of being refit to her specs before it could be delivered. Still, their force was slowly growing. They had gained two mediums and one _Catapult_ in the last month. Their TO&E was well over 100-ways-to-deliver-a-LRM with supporting weaponry at this point, and the mobility to use it. Often.

Cueing her channel tied to both the Coyotes and the 3rd Cavalry, she forgot to clear her throat before speaking. "Coh-te Alpha to all units." _Shit_. "It's go time. Coyotes will engage and pull hostiles north. 3rd Cav wait until 0110 to move out. Close the door behind them and we can capture more delicious loot."

They settled on a movement at dusk to circle around to the western edge of the Seldiran Forest, and with a little luck, managed to get about five kilometers out before going into low-power for about a half hour before starting. The 3rd Cavalry, comprised of three full lances of twelve total LTV-4's for a combo of a dozen PPC's and four dozen SRM's were waiting for the 0110 cue once the bad guys had been drawn out of their camp.

The fans on their hover tanks were much louder than the 'mechs, so they remained another five kilometers back. The ambience and general vegetation of the forest combined with being downwind helped out with the sound a little bit, but Emily wasn't taking any chances.

Hauptmann Taysir Rathore, Commander of the 3rd Cav, chimed in before they got started. His voice had the sound of ancient Terran Indian about it. "Roger Coyote Alpha, waiting until 0110. We've got your back. Go get 'em!" A chorus of high-pitched howls rang out from various drivers and gunners of the 3rd Cav across the comms, and Emily basked in the moment. For a moment, anyway.

The timer had shrunk back down to the top left of her HUD on her neurohelmet, showing 0101. _Shit, better hustle._

"Coyotes, on me. Line abreast, all the big kids with the big toys on the left flank, to the north. Take it about to forty kph and make a lot of noise for about a solid minute as soon as you make contact. Prepare for a fighting withdrawal to the north. Make it look good, but your primary objective is to _not get caught_." She put a lot of emphasis on those last three words.

A rousing chorus of ayes and a few barks and growls answered her, and she throttled up by pressing her feet down on the pedals.

Their somewhat newer _Mongoose_ , piloted by Nymph who was normally in the _Urbanmech_ , was next to her while the three _Fire Javelin_ brothers brought up the right side, what was also soon to be their rear.

A few minutes later, after some incredibly tense strolling, everyone had spread out to about a two-kilometer line north to south. Her night vision was showing that the ground in this area around mostly cypress and pine trees was clear, so the route for the hover tanks should be fine.

"Countact! Something fast, proubably a _Loucust_." Nymph's Russian accent had a thing for pronouncing deep-sounding words much more deeply for some reason. Her _Mongoose,_ passed to her from Bullhorn in his _Griffin_ , had better sensors than most of the Coyotes, so Emily wasn't surprised she picked up something first. "Bearing ouh-five-ouh."

"Alpha here. Keep advancing. Fire a few lasers his way to light up the night and wake up the rest of 'em, Coyotes." There was no shortage of medium lasers in their company. The green beams were their main source of damage if they ran out of LRM's. _Might happen tonight, Emily guessed._

The _Locust_ pilot got a hell of a jolt to the nervous system when well over twenty beams of light reached out in its general direction. Many had faded out before even reaching, as most of them weren't even in range of it. Everyone just wanted a piece of scaring him. The pilot broke and run at top speed, back east towards their encampment, no doubt screaming on as many channels as possible while holding onto his controls for dear life.

The timer in Emily's corner read 0104. _They'd better scramble awful damn fast, or we're going to be late_. The airhorn Martin told her about began to wail, and spotlights shot on ahead of her through the trees. They all swung west towards the advancing line. Some small flashes from low to the ground would punch through the darkness for an instant, as some of their infantry guards engaged with small arms at their max range. One missile, fired from a portable launcher the guards had, broke a large boxwood next to Danek's _Wolverine_.

"Awful desperate for those grunts to give away their position like that." Ifrit _. Probably a little extra cocky now that he's in almost double the tonnage he previously was._ "Think we can take 'em all with just us?" Emily wanted to put that demon to rest immediately.

"Yes, but we want to capture their tech, not blow it up. Stick with the plan. All Coyotes, all Coyotes, swing left at zero-four-five. Start drawing them north. Everyone on the left flank start picking up speed. Don't worry about LRM's in these trees right now. Save the missiles. We want them chasing us." More fire from the infantry bunker closest to them was silenced within another few seconds by Martin's six-tube SRM from his _Wolvie._

"Moultiple pouwer-oups!" Nymph's sensors were going nuts. "Bouth lances are getting ounline, Alpha." _Yesssss…come to me my pretties,_ Emily thought.

"Good. Get moving, Coyotes! We have eight minutes to get eight kilometers. Move move move! Romeo, Tarzan, Mowgli, cover our flanks and stay out of trouble." The _Fire Javelin_ brothers all copied and turned to provide a dozen of their own combined lasers for cover fire while backpedaling.

Trees around the Coyotes and a few of the 'mechs began to take increasing amounts of autocannon, PPC, and laser fire. The cyprus and boxwoods near Emily's 'mech sent splinters all over her viewscreen. She retaliated by moving her crosshairs onto the other _Locust_ , now in full view on her thermal sensors as it darted around a tree. She pressed on her trigger controlling her fifty-five millimeter autocannon in her left shoulder and put a round into the twenty-tonner's left side, crushing whatever weapons were housed in its "ear" for a left arm.

 _No PPC on this one, just smaller guns_ , she realized.

The blow staggered the 'mech at a high rate of speed, but the pilot held on with the help of its gyros, and it found some cover behind a large oak for now. Emily backpedaled for a moment, waiting for it to come out, then turned and broke into a run to the north with the rest of her company.

Her timer read 0106.

Suddenly the familiar-looking death triangle from the _Marauder_ 's PPCs in its arms and the AC-5 in the shoulder screamed out and found Tarzan's backside as he was turning to get some distance of his own. He was shoved forward, off-balance into a large nearby pine that was instantly uprooted and pushed down by thirty tons of metal taking its place. Tarzan continued to stumble, but his gyro must have taken a hit, because he couldn't recover from what should have been an easy save if everything was intact.

The light 'mech continued forward, becoming more horizontal with each step, until it finally faceplanted into the ground and slid forward several meters. Its feet flung backwards in the air momentarily as it gathered a respectable collection of mud and twigs on its front half.

"Huh." His breath was knocked out of him as his harness kept him in his seat at the price of the air in his lungs. "Tarzan…down."

"Tarzan, this is Clothesline. Can you eject to the north? Are there any trees in your path?" _Oh god not again,"_ Emily thought in a brief flashback of Maiden ejecting into a tree.

A brief pause, as more fire was traded back and forth across over two square kilometers and between the better half of around twenty 'mechs. Another PPC shot, this time from the other _Locust,_ went right into Tarzan's exposed right foot, melting the entire thing to the ground. Tiny arcs of blue/white light set all the nearby leaves on fire in a quick _foomph_.

"Tarzan, Clothesline. Eject! Take the chance! You're dead if you don't. Eject and run north as fast as you fucking can!" _If he wasn't thinking about Maiden, he'd have ejected already._

"Hell with it," said a winded Tarzan, and Emily watched the 'mech do a small push-up to get a decent angle. The cockpit shot free at about forty-five degrees off the ground. She lost track of it as more missiles hit her shoulder and a nearby tree. _Oh please oh please not again…_ The timer ticked over to 0107, but she didn't notice.

"Romeo, Mowgli, break off and run, now!" Martin's voice directing his lance sternly. The two remaining _Fire Javs_ fired one volley of four lasers each at the trailing _Marauder_ trying to get a bead on either of them. It withdrew behind a group of trees as a good portion of its armor on its left side had relocated downward as a molten heap. The two combat-functional _Jav_ brothers broke and ran towards Emily's position. She was still using her thermal sensors, and saw both 'mechs almost glowing pure white, having pushed their 'mechs at least slightly past a normal shutdown point.

The inner mercenary in her decided to pipe up, letting her know that was likely an expensive repair for the both of them when they got back. Electronics would be singed or fried, parts wouldn't move the way they were supposed to and would grind together. And she hated herself for thinking about it right now.

"Alpha here. Keep moving to the shore." Turning her 'mech northward again for what felt like the twentieth time this morning, she had regained some of her calm as the trees were giving their opponents a hard time keeping up and tracking them, though they seemed to be gaining ground. "Where is Tarzan's pod?"

"Clothesline here. He made it clear, lucky lil' shit. He's out and running the best he can for now. None of us can pick him up without shaking him too hard while running."

There was a large bright flash to her right, up ahead about a hundred meters. One of the 'mechs on her company readout panel flashed red, then remained red. The computer relaying the data to her own 'mech must have been damaged, because that was the default setting if something like that happened.

It was Presto's _Firefly_. His 'mech had been knocked straight forward as the engine had likely been blown out. It wasn't a big 'mech, relatively speaking. She couldn't tell if he was alive, because of the electronic damage not giving any info and likely wrecking his comms, too.

Emily's timer ticked over to 0108. They were about six kilometers away. Unguided missiles screamed past her cockpit and spiraled around each other to hit the right shoulder of Mother Hen's _Trebuchet_ , which had turned to provide a thirty LRM salvo of its own while it had a rare chance to fire them between the trees. _Nice job, baby,_ she thought, pushing her own 'mech past Pearl's.

 _Fuck it, I'm doin' it._ _I have to._ She changed channels to her combined 3rd Cav/Coyote comms. Black Actual, this is Coyote Alpha."

Seconds later, "Black Actual, go for Coyote Alpha." _Redundant as fuck, Taysir._

"Requesting you come now. These guys have several of our lighter 'mechs down and we're getting slowed down trying to cover them. We might not make it to the shoreline in time."

The familiar hum of a power amplifier connected to his tank's own PPC warming up in the background was all the answer she really needed. "Cavalry's coming, sweetheart. Out."

Switching back to her company's channel, she caught a quick blip of heat on the ground as Tarzan happened to run by and stop at a nearby tree, clearly out of breath. "Mutt Alpha, this is Rapunzel Actual."

"Go, Rapunzel."

"ETA 0114. Should be coming up on your sensors now. Couldn't be helped. We'll push south faster." Emily was grateful for the extra minute the RoughRiders gave them to properly spring the trap, but it meant she might lose more people or equipment, or both.

Meanwhile, her HUD's timer ticked over to 0109. _Five clicks to go. Fuck, this feels like a thousand. Damn trees slowing us dow—wait._

 _The trees!_ "All Coyotes, Alpha here. Find the two nearest trees next to you that won't block a friendly's retreat and chop it down. It'll buy us some time and look more authentic." Another chorus of ayes.

A well-placed PPC shot to her chest brought her back to the battle she was fighting. It nudged her backwards, but she braced the impact with ease. _Shit, too busy juggling stuff._ She ignored the blast for now, turning to a tree to her left that was about as wide as her 'mech's arm, and she leaned her 'mech's weight on both the _Shadow Hawk's_ hands, shoving it over with loud cracks and thumps. Seconds later, her seismic sensors went into a small panic as a couple dozen trees began falling all around them.

It removed some of their cover, but everyone continued north to another nearby tree relatively quickly. _Guess some of their guys were running hot trying to volley us and took a sec to cool down. Yay._

0110\. Emily's seemed to involuntarily widen at every time the clock had an _amazing_ new revelation for her—time was running out. _Four clicks to go and we're down two guys already_.

A random large laser created a bridge of light between her right arm and the _Phoenix Hawk's_ laser. The laser seemed to be replaced, but most of the right arm was still a mess from a couple days ago, except for replacement armor. _Cameron's Chronic Carbuncles, he made the shot with an arm like that?_ Her damage display put a decently-sized scar along her right bicep, but the armor held. She retaliated with an alpha-strike, firing everything her _Shadow Hawk_ had. Two lasers, the AC-5, the SRM-2 and even her five-tube LRM-launcher. She was immediately rewarded by her fusion engine shoving more heat throughout her 'mech, making her cockpit temp spike almost ten degrees Celsius instantly.

He wasn't far away—the LRM's didn't even arm before reaching him, but they landed after a short barrage starting with the beams, making some of the now-liquified metal splatter like a sodering experiment gone totally wrong. Then the AC-5 sent an explosive round into one of the scars, turning the burst boil into a large crater of metal, sending shards of metal into all the trees in front of it. The two SRM's followed up, but hit the other opening instead, creating two smaller gouges. Despite all that, his armor held up and nothing went through.

It did, however, cause a moment of panic for the _Phoenix Hawk_ pilot as the duel between _Hawks_ continued. He was faster than she was, but he was also out-weighed by ten tons of armor and weapons in an area that didn't allow him to use his speed. He turned to break away from Emily's _Shadow Hawk_ momentarily as she heard her AC-5 rack another round. She never took her crosshairs off of him, leading ever so slightly for the cannon. As he put his back to her, she fired and managed to blow a hole through his much-thinner rear armor into his right shoulder.

The arm came clean off in one hit. The pre-mangled arm that carried his main weapon flipped end-over-end and impaled a tree, with its laser aimed back at Emily. For a millisecond, she imagined some sort of psychokinetic power would allow him to shoot a weapon no longer powered by his fusion reactor. Or connected in any way at all. And the thought was gone almost as if she went back in time to erase it.

She turned once more northward, while a single laser raked across her rear armor as she regained speed. The cockpit cooled slightly, but she felt out of breath and leaned over to take a quick sip of water out of her tube over her shoulder. The water entered her system before it even went down her throat.

And then she was shoved forwards by a massive blast into her backside. She felt the world spin around her as her 'mech's upper half spun to the left while she was mid-stride. Her 'mech's feet managed to find solid ground, she had trouble breaking the forward momentum. She saw sparks and flames blow past the right side of her cockpit. She could only focus on keeping her balance, but it seemed like the entire universe was all calling out for her attention at once. She instinctually slammed both her feet down and used her jump jets to keep her mech forward.

She rose into the canopy, the twigs and branches trying to slow her forward fall like a living net, and allowed her to come down solidly on both feet at she landed. She didn't waste any time, moving back into a run while trying to keep her left side more exposed, since it was the only side that had any armor left. Or anything at all left.

 _OhshitOhshitOhshit…Okay…mostly still in one piece._ The universe seemed to give up its cries of help and her senses began to register some of the voices in her helmet.

"-nchbg oun your six, Alpha!" She couldn't be sure who's voice that was during all this hubbub, but it sounded like they said…

"I'm okay, keep moving!" No doubt several of them were her people hoping she was alright. Emily allowed a brief split-second of clarity to look at the timer. 0111. And she wasn't much closer to the shore than the _last_ time it ticked a new number.

"…Did you say _Hunchback_?" Emily asked.

"Confirmed that _Hunchback_ just took out your right shoulder, Alpha. Get out of there!" Pearl's voice. _The_ Hunchback's _giant AC-20 almost killed me in one shot._ Pearl kept speaking. "All Coyotes, this is Mother Hen. Fire LRM's. I say again, fire LRM's to cover Alpha. Don't even worry about a lock, just hose the fucking forest down! Two full vollies, then turn and continue north."

Within seconds every Coyote from every distance, most of them in front of her, turned and fired over a hundred long-range missiles in the general vicinity over her ragged shoulder. Fires erupted all over trees and some managed to go even further to reach some of the 'mechs chasing them. Several took sporadic hits, but that alone wouldn't stop them from advancing.

The ensuing forest fire that sparked to life less than a hundred meters behind Emily on the other hand…that was slowing them down. _Running through that might push some of the already toasty pursuers into shutdown at this point._

Emily finally got a glance at her damage readout. Her entire right side and everything that previously lived there was almost completely removed with one shot. Everything about her 'mech seemed like it was on a cruise ship riding a big wave, tilting her to the left all the time. She felt both her and her 'mech slowing down as the explosions and fires erupting around them increased by the second.

Everything started to feel hazy. Voices started to become slower, almost unrecognizable. She was sure Pearl took over the whole thing on the fly, but suddenly Emily felt very cold as she realized she might not make it out of this herself. _I fucked it up. I didn't give us enough time. Not enough time. I got greedy._

As if whoever she was silently wondering all this to seemed to agree with her, she got loudly shoved again. The left side of her viewscreen erupted with blue and white sparks, arcing electricity, and a whole lot of flying metal as her left side was blown off by PPC fire.

And then she got slammed by no less than three PPC's blowing out what was left of her left side, sending her rocking forward almost face-first into a large tree, stopping her forward momentum and causing her to turn perpendicular to all the oncoming forces. Another throw against her harness took the breath out of her like it did to Tarzan, and the rest of the 'mech, or what was left of it, felt like she did. It just wanted to lay down and accept its fate.

And that's what it did. Her gyros took some damage from the last wave of hits and began to keel over, and all Emily could do was turn her top half to the left to protect the cockpit. She slammed against her harness while her neck jerked to the side with the weight of her neurohelmet.

Turning towards the more than half-dozen 'mechs stomping their way _through_ the fire, unlike what she hoped earlier, some slowed to train their weapons on her just in case she made a wrong move. She was motionless. There was a whole lot of noise in her helmet, people talking, other people talking, some people talking about the people talking. Someone telling everyone else to stop talking and then talking a lot. _What a hypocrite,_ she thought dumbly.

Then someone else talking on a completely different channel, a voice less familiar to her. All the trees and bushes around her suddenly started to vibrate furiously and a few limbs and branches and rocks went flying. Dust then filled her viewscreen until a large metal foot came down very close to her head on a bed of fire. There was a mix of various camouflage colors on it, but she could out the one decal on the shin before it moved away.

 _Blue shield, white skull. Lots of horns and stuff._ She looked at her timer one last time.

 _0113\. Right on time after all._ _And behind them instead of in front. Well-played._ Emily decided now was a decent time to try and get herself out, but her body wouldn't cooperate the way she planned. As she unhooked herself, she tumbled out of the couch and onto the right side of her cockpit. Her head bounced off something. Her neurohelmet kept anything from going into her skull, but things started to get very blurry and dark. Resting her hand on some cool metaler somewhere inside her cockpit she thought, _welp, I think I'll take a nap for the both of us, old girl._

"Emily Wright, Channel Seven News, good night Solaris, we love ya." And then she passed out.


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

May 14th, 3025

Aboard Dropship _Akemi Ayame_ (Bright Iris)

Suk II Zenith Jump Point

Suk Solar system

"Jump complete, Sho-Sho. You may undock and begin your approach to Suk II." The Captain of the Gure Kujira, meaning Gray Whale, turned off his video transmission to the bridge of his dropship, the Akemi Ayame.

"Arigato Gosaimasu, Dai-i." Though Kuri technically outranked the man, who held the equivalent of a Kommandant or Major in various other military superpowers, he considered the Jumpship captain his superior while he had ensured their well-being. Now that his job was done, Kuri could set the rest of his plans in motion.

Kuri leaned forward and pressed the button allowing him to broadcast to all his dropship captains. "Attention to all dropship commanders. Please begin your undock sequence immediately, and set course for Suk II. Within 10 seconds of him releasing the button, a deep vibration shook the Akemi Ayame as the docking clamps released and the ship drifted away. Within another 10 seconds, the other _Overlord_ and the _Vengence_ had undocked and began lightly firing maneuvering thrusters. One had to go around the entire dropship, and nobody was in any hurry just yet.

Minutes later, feelings of zero-gravity for much of the duration of this trip was lifted for an amount of time that would be considered indefinite for the crew and passengers of the two _Overlords_. The only exception being the gravity shift as the ships will eventually skew-flip and burn backwards to slow themselves to the surface of the planet. After that, a relatively comfortable ninety-three percent of Terra's gravity and an indefinite garrison duty while defending. _The Lyrans will likely want this planet back after they take it at some point._ Kuri had no doubt.

He sent the pre-recorded message meant for Alvarez's agents, and along with another pre-recorded message to the general populace of Suk II warning them to stay out of the conflict. With a push of a button, separate burst transmissions were sent to in a tight beam to different coordinates on the planet. Or where the planet would be by the time it arrived. The 2nd Legion of Vega were on schedule to attack in a week, and nothing was going to stop their arrival at this point.

Parliament Hall

Mach 'Beh

Suk II

Orsula entered her office and dismissed her aide politely, giving her some privacy to unwind after the emergency meetings had wrapped up regarding the new arrival of an entire battlemech regiment coming to take over their planet. She had spent the better part of the day keeping her face from giving away the slightest twinge of a smile or anything that might give her away. Now she could _relax_ for a moment.

She let loose the biggest grin she could manage and put her arms in the air and twirled around the office a couple of times.

"That's better." She walked over to her computer at her desk, which had about as many blinking lights on it in a crisis as one could imagine. Numerous requests for her attention. Too many for her to sort through without her aide, so she let it slide.

There _was_ one particular message she was interested in, though. She sat down, and the soft linens of her ceremonial toga rustled on the seat as she pulled up her in-box. She scrolled through all the messages received today and found a recipient she didn't recognize. "Mr. Stanley Cornwell. Let's see what you have for me, Mr. Cornwell…" She opened the message, and a recording came up showing the face of Oka Kuri blinked on.

"Ms. Alvarez, if you have received this message then we are in transit to Suk II from the zenith jump point. By now you've already gone over this with your people. We will not let you know where we intend to land but know that it will not be interrupted by any tricks."

The freckles on his face gave him a more youthful, boyish appearance, but the wrinkles on the corners of his eyes and the almost perpetual frown that came with long-term command told the real story. His English was rather crisp, but still had the tell-tale Japanese accent that relied heavily on annunciation.

"The best course of action for yourself is to create civil unrest in as many different areas as possible prior to our landing, and until we fully pacify the planet for the Dragon. Do not resort to using the camera virus unless we contact you again. Your actions have already given us a wide opening to take the capitol. If the RoughRiders take any action that leave water plants undefended, we will punish them. Any future treatment plant losses should be spun against the RoughRiders to maximum effect, turning public opinion in our favor.

"I know you cannot transmit to me any further, so to show you have received this and will comply with what is necessary for our agreement, you must start a small riot on the corner of Carson and Steiner on the day of May 15. We will be watching news feeds. Our commandos will transmit them. Do not trouble yourself any further with any direct messages until our operation is complete." He looked down for a second, then back at the camera, smiling.

"I've always wanted to say something like this. This message will not self-destruct, but it will remove itself from your computer. That is about as close to the holovids as it will ever get." He gave a slight bow of the head and made a motion with his shoulder that looked like he turned off the camera himself. 

She giggled to herself. _Always wanted to be a part of something like that myself._ As the video ended entirely on its own, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes away from the blinking lights demanding her attention, for just one moment of peace.

 _Soon, everything I've ever wanted and more will be realized._

Selidran Forest

New Syria

Suk II

Emily thought she heard a thousand things and nothing at the same time. She couldn't tell where any of it was coming from, or when. It might have been an echo from hours ago, years or even from a previous life. If she was into that kind of thing.

She heard her name about a hundred times as well but couldn't see much. It hurt to open her eyes, and everything was warm around her. She wanted water in the worst way. Eventually someone offered it to her and she might have promised them a few million C-Bills at some point. When she _did_ open her eyes, there were 'mechs standing over her. From the ground, they felt like they towered like a metal wonder. The only 'mech she could recognize clearly was an _Otscout_ with RoughRider colors.

That thought made her laugh. On the inside. Outside was painful. _If Jean LaPointe has come to rescue me from the big bad whoevers, he's going to be sorely disappointed he's not my type._ She closed her eyes and kept them there, trying to separate all the different sounds from each other. She wasn't under as many trees as she remembered, and there was a deep, steady rhythm of _whum whum whum whum_ that seemed to shake her soul. _Maybe a VTOL, LC said he was handling the medevac. Man, I really have to stop meeting him all beaten to hell and my 'mech half-busted._

She shook her head, and it made her see stars. _Ugh. Nope. This time it's all busted._ All the trees seemed to be on one side of her vision, when she was brave enough to risk having any vision. She could smell and taste salt in the air, which made her almost as thirsty as when she did that alpha strike on the _Phoenix Hawk._

She could hear the sounds of two men, on either side of her, counting. Then she was hoisted up and then she realized she was laying on a stretcher of some kind. The whum whum whum whum became louder as she jostled up and down horizontally toward it. _No really, I'm fine, no need to be gentle, boys,_ she thought sarcastically. But she wasn't feeling much anyway. Just a bigass headache like she drank an entire tanker of Timbiqui Light.

She passed out after a medic shot something into her arm when the VTOL lifted off.

When she woke again, she was in a hospital bed underneath the top of a familiar-looking tent. She defiantly felt better, but still like hell.

"How's that head doing, Major?" She looked up and sitting near her between two beds was LC LaPointe, more chipper than the last time she saw him before the mission.

"Oh…you know. Just felt like someone body-slammed a dropship on my head, that's all." She apparently over-rested by her standards, but her head was the only part of her not agreeing with that. At least the tent was _quiet_ compared to last night. _So peaceful,_ she thought.

"Docs said you were due to wake up any time, and I was around so I thought I'd give myself a generous thirty-second break while waiting. Normally I'd suggest a little of whatever you were drinking last night, but this time I'll just give you the quick recap of last night. Minor concussion for you and dehydration, but the docs said you'll be ok in about two days. As for the rest of the fight…you ready?"

"Hang on…" She forced herself to sit upright if he was going to drop the bomb on her right this second. "Then I gotta pee."

He chuckled and was actually smiling. Apparently, any battle summary that has him smiling had to be good for loot. He held up the datapad in front of him then handed it to her. The images were difficult to look at, but she forced herself to concentrate.

On one column of the screen was a list of various states of salvage, in red. The others, in green and yellow, were a list of captured 'mechs, personnel, and miscellaneous. She guessed the yellow ones were in half-decent shape and made herself read the worst part aloud.

 _"_ Destroyed/scrap _: Shadow Hawk, Fire Javelin, Firefly, Phoenix Hawk."_ She blinked. "Wait, that's it?" LaPointe simply nodded, letting her take it all in. She blinked again, struggling with the small lettering but continuing the best she could. She used her fingers to zoom in further on the other two columns.

"Salvaged: _Trebuchet, Locust, Warhammer, LTV-4."_

 _Okaaaaay…_ her skepticism grew.

"Captured: _Marauder, Locust, Rifleman, Jagermech, Lancelot._ Unknown tonnage of various minerals and gemstones. Number of various service and salvage vehicles: nine. Approximately six MechWarriors and fifty-seven infantry and support personnel from enemy compound." She said nothing else, just staring at the sheer amount of 'mechs in this the captured and salvaged columns. _And the Coyotes rate half of this. In exchange for two lights and one medium._ "Davion's Dunlop's Disease, we captured almost twice what we lost! And bigger 'mechs, too!"

He couldn't help but grin at this one, though he probably heard the exclamation before. "Overall I'd call the op a rousing success. The only KIA's were a handful of infantry on their side, but we've got a lot of people in various states of banged up. Especially you, two of your pilots, and that LTV crew. The RoughRiders took almost zero damage once the 3rd Cav came behind them, thanks to your plan, complicated further by the downed trees and a disgustingly good alpha strike from one of of 3rd Cavalry's lances on that."

There was a little twinkle in his eye. "Though I wager my son is probably going to take a little bit more credit, asking both our _Unions_ to put his guys directly behind them instead on the shoreline and came in on jump jets. At night. Gutsy move, and that makes…if I'm remembering right…" He put his hand to his chin, mocking deep thought. "I forget, but it's well over one hundred twenty-seven jumps in a row, now.

Then his face darkened for some reason. "There's another reason I'm here, Major. This might take a little more time to sink in, but it helps to get the info early while you're recovering at this point."

"I'm here to ask you to renegotiate your contract with the Militia. To a wider area of operation."

"LC, just give it to me straight. My brain can't handle huge words right now. How big an AO you talking here? What's going on?" She put her hand on her forehead, thinking maybe if she punched the headache hard enough it would go away.

LaPointe stood, putting the data pad in his pocket slowly. He locked eyes with Emily and his usual scowl returned.

"The entire planet. We're being invaded."


	26. Chapter 25 (Act III)

**Act III**

 **Chapter 25**

May 15th, 3025

RoughRider Zulu HQ

Alshayra Continent

Suk II

Emily sat in a motorized chair with her side to the large holotable as part of the high-level conference was going on in the command center. LC LaPointe, with Abramsen and Dusselhoff were all there for the RoughRiders. Hauptmann Ketchum and Alvarez's aide, Orlianne, represented the Militia.

 _And here we are, minus J.J. Hope he's okay. Haven't heard from him for too long now._ Emily, Pearl, and Daniels rounded out the representatives and liaisons from the Coyotes. There were a few people she didn't recognize, but she was sure she'd get their names. _If we survive this, we might need our own intel officer._ She tried to avoid the image of Rhys Kang in her mind. _He was rather good at assessing intel when the four of them put their heads together_. Damnit brain I said stop thinking about him! _Ow._

She didn't mind sitting down. The concussion wasn't even a full day old and she needed at least a few days before she could get in a 'mech, let alone pilot it effectively. She could move slightly or do critical thinking, but no combination of the two for now. Pearl stood at a respectable distance, but it was no secret about the two of them anymore. _Word travels fast when you're bored and on downtime between missions._

LaPointe was going over some planetary strategy, but she found it hard to concentrate on the map and his voice at the same time. She settled on his voice and resigned herself to remember the details as best she could.

"…to the northeast, roughly the location of the spaceport. This Drac commander, Kuri I think his name was, is one of the more rogue operators in the combine. Has plenty of political pull on the military side of things, lots of influence. If these mercs already on-planet are under his influence or even directly employed by him, and this isn't a full invasion sanctioned by his Warlord or the Coordinator, then he's in hot water if he can't get a smashing victory right off the bat. Given his ground forces have him at close to even odds, plus at least one more mercenary company in the jungle, he's probably working on his own without authorization. Otherwise we'd be looking at two-to-one or three-to-one odds easily."

Abramsen stopped his intelligence update, looking at the small group of Coyotes. "I'm almost positive he's banking on far more guerilla support down here than he's actually getting. Hell, the Coyotes are working alongside us now, so that helps even things out a lot, though we're vastly outnumbered in the air."

The Militia commander, Ketchum, interjected with an upward palm. "Either way, our water plants are more or less held hostage until we can nail whoever's behind them at the source entirely. These guys are ninjas. I checked with some of the intel guys in the cities and it seems they have a presence there as well. Your former Draconis liaison might have been in league with him for all we now. If you look at the timeline, it's convenient timing he disappeared after wrapping things up with the Coyotes. Hell, his own people might have been the ones who snatched him at that casino."

This was the first time Emily actually thought of that. _Damn…that's way more likely than I thought it would be. Really hope it's not, but…damn. DAMN._ She felt obliged to speak up on his behalf, at least. "While that may be true, he couldn't have known about The Langley Affair. He was caught in the blast himself!. He might still be looking for some answers of his own. Or, you're right and he's a double-triple-whatever agent." She looked down at the table, letting the voices drone on for a moment. Pearl promised she'd help fill her in with anything she missed later.

LaPointe didn't seem convinced. "Either way, we're still looking at approximately six dozen battlemechs from the 2nd Legion of Vega, with up to ten lances of aerospace support. What we know about them is limited, other than they are either a place of redemption for downcast troops, or a dumping ground. Lately their reputation has been on the up and up, so I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and treat them like seasoned vets.

"Most of their 'mechs are of the light-to-heavy variety, with some assaults. Most of ours are medium to heavy. The _Vengence_ that's with them isn't actually part of the 2nd, so they may stay, but it's more likely they'll leave once they're deployed. We have a decent amount of anti-aircraft configured 'mechs, but not enough of them that they won't be able to concentrate fire and get superiority. We have a mix of twenty-two light aerospace and VTOL, so that puts us at about one third their air power, plus our own anti-air, likely matched by the 2nd Legion's own AA.

"Either we make a move on the spaceport and entrench ourselves, and they pick an alternate spot to land anyway and we leave the treatment plants exposed, _or_ we try to get their final trajectory and race to get there before they're fully deployed. We'll have local infrastructure on our side, so best case we'd probably be fighting up to ½ of their regiment at once _and_ the _Overlords_ themselves, plus up to 40 Aerospace." LaPointe shook his head grimly. "And if they decide to drop their 'mechs in before the _Overlords_ land, we're looking at a serious disadvantage.

Ketchum shook his head too. "If I were this guy, and the commandos were in my employ, I'd send them to take out any lines of transit between us and them before they land, too. It's definitely an even safer option for them."

LaPointe nodded. Then said a few things Emily couldn't quite make out.

Then she had a thought. A painful one, but a thought nonetheless.

"Wouldn't it be better for us if we gave them a couple really good options that suited us better?"

Someone stopped talking, Emily couldn't be sure who, and they all turned to her suddenly. Multiple eyebrows went up and Dusselhoff, apparently the one who was interrupted, gave her a look that implied _seriously, lady?_ He wasn't amused at all, but the rest seemed to think the awkward moment was funny.

"Oh…sorry about that. Concussion." She tapped the side of her head subconsciously. "Sorry HP. Little hard to keep everything straight right now."

He nodded. "Go on."

She looked at the table again. This would be easier without making eye contact with everyone. "Throwing another what-if out there, but how about we give 'em a couple landing spots south of Mach'Beh. They'd have to go through heavily wooded trees and we can generally set 'em up for the knockdown. We know where they're _going_ , which is the spaceport and the capitol, so the Militia and the Coyotes can set up a delaying action. Then the RoughRiders come in and clean up." Several people nodded, but she couldn't see specifically because her vision blurred for a moment.

He also stopped to glance at Emily multiple times while other people talked various logistical things she couldn't grasp at the moment. He was definitely aware of her idea of putting herself between approximately five to six times her force after having just been shot out of her own 'mech attempting the same thing at the very beginning of the same day.

She thought to herself, _what the hell am I thinking, here? This is insane. Suicide. We'd be lucky if half our people made it out of that._ But she didn't retract the offer, either.

LaPointe leaned over the table and studied various terrain around the capitol. He paced around the table getting a better look at everything while Daniels mentioned something about Aerospace. She caught Dusselhoff saying "If we leave the treatment plants, we risk going down in history as "the guys who let a rogue Drac officer make almost half a billion people go thirsty."

"I'll advise the Prime Minister to go to water rations. We'll probably have to do that regardless. That'll extend the life of the plants for a while. Also, I have a Sanderson message for all of you regarding water supplies. It doesn't leave this table." That particular device was a Suk II invention, a hybrid of the old cameras from ancient Terra that included a shawl to protect the exposure, back when pictures were taken on glass plates.

This was a portable Sanderson which included a shawl made of various filaments, fibers that resisted electronic scans, and other things Emily was too tired to care about. It was invented to protect the message from prying eyes in the same room. He was playing with it for a few seconds then put it on himself and typed a message. Then he passed it around and everyone got a turn looking foolish and mysterious at the same time.

Everyone held their tongue, except Dusselhoff who made a playful jab at Ketchum for not bringing up a message like this at the beginning of the meeting. And Ketchum, who held his hands up in mock protest and a "this only became relevant just now."

By the time it got around to Emily, she put it on, and read the three-sentence message.

 _Underground stored water reserves will last four months. Top-secret, do not share info with anyone. Focus on the Dracs, we'll get the plants up and running again before reserves dry up._

The digital letters were painful to look at, and Emily practically ripped it off her head. Pearl gave her a steadying hand on her shoulder and took the device, handing it back to Ketchum.

"Sorry about that. It's a ridiculous device, but it works, and given the Dracs have clearly done their homework with the espionage involved in the last few months…" _And probably many months or years prior to that_ , Emily thought. _Hell, most of them live here permanently by now. It's got what both sides want in a war: people and Industry._

Abramsen finally spoke up. "Anyway, I can't say Major Wright's plan is a bad one. It's certainly a more viable option, and it will limit their air superiority slightly. Those forests aren't big enough to safely conceal an entire battalion of RoughRiders, let alone a regiment. But if we park ourselves on the northern portions of the capitol, guarding the spaceport and surrounding areas, it forces them to land further away. The next-best options are down south of the nature preserve."

The Nordic-featured man did a thoughtful motion with his hand on his rich goatee, then said "We have almost a full week to get ready. That's plenty of time to make the rest of the nearby landing sites a living hell. And we can make ourselves very visible while doing it. We'd generally want them to see us remove some of their choices and leave several open. The fact that we _can't_ hide everyone in that forest is a good reason for them to land of it, putting the forest between the capitol and them.

"It's decent, but we can expect a lot of public blowback if we leave the plants alone, like HP Dusselhoff is so adamant about. That's another factor—we need to keep the public on our side on this. Both sides want the planet, and the people caught in between are going to lean towards whoever does the least damage to their friends, family, and livelihood. Let's keep the fights out of the cities and keep the public spin on our side."

This was only the first of several meetings this week, and Emily couldn't take any more of it right now. She excused herself and wheeled her way out for a moment, letting the stale air of their command room whoosh past her in the doorway with the urgency of _it_ also having a bad headache. She sighed and took two of the meds their doc gave her and leaned her head against the cool reinforced steel wall.

 _At least I almost smooth-talked us into getting the kind of job we're good at._ Though she never imagined she'd be putting herself and her people between so much raw firepower, fighting only a delaying action. The sounds and smells of the last time she tried that less than a full day ago were still fresh in her mind. _At least nobody died this time. Including me. Definitely not gonna happen against the Dracs. They're gonna kick the shit out of us before the RoughRiders get there._

She almost felt like she signed her own death certificate no more than two minutes ago, and she wanted to cry. She didn't, this time, but she still wanted to.

Location Unknown

Suk II

J.J. was pretty sure the carpet he paced about 1,746 circles around will have a permanent race track imprinted in it by the time he was out of here. The small suburban house he was kept in seemed like it was in the middle of nowhere, and there was plenty of security around him. All heavily armed, while they were inside. Outside their weapons were much easier to conceal.

His fresh clothes from a random department store had all the tags taken off, so he couldn't really figure out where he was at or where they came from. Almost all of them had Japanese features along with their specialized assault weaponry of various shapes and sizes, all of them looking very high-tech.

 _The guns are high tech, but they look like tourists._ _Checking all the boxes of stereotypes, check. Easier to blend in that way. But a large group of adult to middle-aged males in the same area hardly saying a word? That part needs a little work, guys._

J.J. was sure these guys were in with a bunch of different groups at the same time. Most of them seemed a little more nervous than a bunch of random commandos on guard duty would seem. They probably have a lot on their plate. Little twinges of the eyes, a furrowed brow implying stress and not general anger or prejudice to their captive. And probably not under just one employer. J.J.'s employer, the same one who hired the commandos and the mercenaries like the Coyotes, has some explaining to do.

He hadn't got much closer to the whole gun-cam situation, other than it had to be someone on-planet permanently. Whoever was responsible had a lot of contacts, including local organized crime, political and Militia. It had to be high up the food chain, but he wasn't sure how high yet.

He had a lot to report to his Warlord, in charge of the entire Rasalhague military district. His Go-Shujin-Sama, or master, had suspected Kuri and a few of his allies wanted to make a big play for the Combine, winning prestige in the eye of the Dragon for giving such a worthy planet as Suk II without even being asked to. Or being authorized to yet using the Dragon's resources to do it.

The trouble is, Kuri was known for starting fires in places they didn't belong, hence his assignment to the 2nd Legion of Vega several years ago.

J.J. put his head to the wall again, trying to make some sense of the conversation in the next room. The double-layer of drywall plus at least one white noise generator made that practically impossible, so he went back to pacing. Patience was never his strongest suit. He sat on the bed they gave him and forced himself to try and go back to sleep.

 _Since I'm not exactly in a cell, just under very-much heavy guard, someone's due to show up. They wouldn't go through all this trouble for me if they weren't going to try and smooth-talk me into dropping my investigation. They could have just killed me, but since they didn't, they're going to try and convince me to go back to what I was doing with the Coyotes. I'll just wait it out and see who's coming._


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

May 16th, 3025

Jeano's Sports Den

Downtown Mach 'Beh

Suk II

"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special news update."

The bar erupted into groans and boos almost instantly. There was a semi-final football match between the biggest rivals on Alshayra, and the score was tied one-to-one. The small bar's patrons simultaneously found a reason to get up and go to the tiny bathroom, built for one person at a time.

The screen changed from its usual introductory screen and cut to Wes Johnson, looking a little more serious than usual. His hair even looked more serious, somehow. A random peanut bounced off the screen, followed by a " _hey_!"From the bartender.

"Good evening. Approximately thirty minutes ago, several riots began throughout the capitol. Approximately thirty-seven people have been injured, and there are reports of many store fronts that have been broken into and looted. We take you now to Mohammed Hajar, reporting live. Mohammed?"

The screen changed to show the street signs of Carson street and Steiner Drive, then the camera panned out to show the intersection covered in trash and debris and multiple stores were broken into. One had smoke coming out of the front window, but despite that, people went in anyway to take what they could. In front of that window stood Mohammad with the traditional hand-held microphone that has become almost purely aesthetic. Many professional journalists had their own custom microphones mounted around their ear.

"Thanks Wes. This is the scene of where everything began. A large group of anti-Lyran protestors were lined up and down the street corners of this intersection just moments ago. This area was the hub of a four-block pro-Lyran rally where a small festival was supposed to be held all day." The camera panned around the street, where small tents, tables and bleachers were in various states of torn, broken, and bent. Or burned down entirely.

Another peanut bounced off the screen. "Nobody cares! Go back to the game!" The bartender walked to the table of the legume thrower and mouthed a last warning.

"Hey, that riot's in the middle of my drive home. Give it a sec." Another voice, from somewhere along the back wall.

The holovid screen had a blurring transition, then began a slideshow of numerous video clips of people fighting in the streets, setting fire to tents, or coming in and out of stores that had been broken into. A small fire was shown on one of the shops directly next to the intersection.

"Both groups had been feuding in the last couple of weeks since The Langley Affair, but the arrival of over a regiment of a Draconis Combine troops, likely in battlemechs, that allegedly mean to occupy the planet had brought things to a head. Both sides blamed the other for The Langley Affair, and gun cam photos from one of the battles showed a commando team with known Combine equipment and weaponry was spotted leaving the building that exploded shortly thereafter."

The screen then transitioned to various photos from the fight between the Coyotes and the RoughRiders, showing the commandos crossing the street and their equipment. Then it went back to showing more riot photos and fighting. One video showed one man performing a perfectly-executed body slam of another man onto the ferrocrete. The entire bar groaned as the man's head bounced off.

"I felt that from _here!"_

 _"_ Welp, I doubt he's feeling anything at this point."

"Damn, that's a red card."

"I mean if you're going to use your hands, you might as well go all-out like that guy." Laughing and more groans broke out.

Through the stain-glass doorway, multiple people ran along the street, with more following them. And then a Molotov cocktail sailed after them with a crash of glass barely audible. Screams were heard as more and more people ran past the door, silhouetted for a brief moment.

The bartender ran to the door and put his hand on the reader, then pushed another button and the door clicked shut. Most people suddenly realized what was going on, and a panicked murmur rippled through the bar.

"Closin' up early, guys. You can go out the back way or you can ride this out with me until it's gone. Drinks are free until this whole thing blows over." That got a pretty good roar from the room, for the time being. Hunkering down with friends and fellow sports fans over some free booze was one of the best ways to ride out a good old-fashioned city riot.

Firebase Yankee

Suk II

"Didn't think I'd be back here so soon," Emily thought aloud. Pearl and Martin, with their liaison Daniels were strolling along the various 'mech gantries laid out along the dirt path. There was an impressive number of 'mechs currently being worked on, most of them being the ones reclaimed from their battle over on New Syria just four days ago. Her head still hurt, but she could handle walking and talking on her own just fine now.

Emily was still on a light duty chit for the twenty more hours, and the RoughRider doctor was strict as hell about it. He didn't care that any of them weren't even a RoughRider.

Nobody in the group had anything particularly better to do for the afternoon, for once. Now that most of the briefings were over they decided to get a closer look at some of the remains of "The Battle of Selidran." Pearl had arranged for transport back to Alshayra for the company now that the main threat on New Syria had been neutralized, but they hadn't arrived yet. So, for probably the only time they could remember that didn't involve getting piss drunk, they had some actual downtime.

This was Martin's ritual, which the rest of them had adopted. Daniels tagged along out of idleness more than anything.

 _And just five days till the Dracs arrive…_

Up close, two _Warhammers_ stood in gantries side by side with the same cammo job. Both had belonged to the people they had just fought. One was missing and arm and a lower leg, and was supported by hoists from the gantry.

The other must have been Jawbone's 'mech, because it was missing a lot of everything. It was mostly intact, and stood on its own, but the holes that had been punched in it from every direction would give even some of the sternest stomachs a case of trypophobia.

This time her ride was far more trashed. Pearl's hadn't fared much better. It wouldn't see combat in the coming days while it got its chest and both its arms repaired. Once the RoughRiders had landed behind them with the 3rd Cavalry closing in rapidly, their targets went for a brief last-ditch defense and knocked her engine and gyro out in a single shot from that _Hunchback's_ AC-20. Emily's own _Hawk_ had been reported as a total loss, but there was about 60% of the 'mech remaining, which counted for something.

 _We didn't even know they_ had _a_ Hunchie _until he blew my shoulder out. Guy's a crack shot with that thing._ It could have been an error from the person giving LaPointe the battle report, because what was left of the fifty-tonner that took down both of them was blown to so many bits that nobody recognized it at first. It littered a twenty-meter radius like it was taken apart in a chop-shop, except with various forms of ammo and lasers instead of tools.

It had belonged to one of the best gunners in the medium 'mech circuit on Solaris. A well-deserved top-ten ranking for three years running in the circuit, Chris Johannsen had earned a good living, until a few days ago. His unit, which Emily finally found out was an entire stable that had left the scene to go mercenary, were known as the Seventh Solaris Sandmen. _Possibly named after their house, because I sure as hell don't recall there being a First, Second, up through Sixth Solaris Sandmen. Oh well. Points for alliteration on a clever name._

She had found their shooting to be quite exceptional, but their overall tactics and strategy were a little primitive. Most of their pilots were used to the specialized brawling of the arena circuit, and their TO&E was a bit strange to her.

 _Well ok…not strange, just plain dumb._

Scouting with a support medium, using lights for perimeter security while taking a loot-and-pillage kind of contract. Apparently, Jawbone was their company commander, and formerly the stablemaster. _Their actions were a lot less aggressive once Jawbone had been…neutralized._

 _The guy doing this salvage report didn't seem to know much about how savvy a team of 'mech techs can be when the shit really goes down. That, or he was trying to write off more equipment that he could smuggle into the black market. Either way, it didn't work. I'm sure LaPointe knows by now that something's amiss, but I could bring it up too for some extra points with him._

She thought she had seen it all, back with Bart's Broncos. They had a _Jagermech_ with parts from a Rifleman that made it look like the two had somehow combined into one ugly monstrosity. Because they had. Literally. It had yellow and black arms with a red and white body. It had been rechristened as "Patch, the traveling zombie." The sight of it was horrifyingly awesome in Emily's memory.

A handful of men were handling a very large flatbed and a crane, pulling out pieces of 'mech parts slowly and carefully, like the planet's most expensive claw machine that may-or-may-not hold onto that stuffed animal a child really wants. One had a data pad and was reciting the names of things that were being removed. This truck had mostly intact parts, so the "things" were more recognizable.

"Fire in the hole!" Yelled a man on their team. A second later, the horizontal "ribcage" on either side of the flatbed that held all those parts together opened slowly, and they all came to a new resting place on the truck with a group of screeches that sounded paranormal. Everyone had electronic earmuffs with various choices of white or brown noise available, but the sound still penetrated. Pearl felt a few lightning bolts go between her ears for a moment.

The man mouthed a _sorry,_ but he seemed about as sincere as the wad of tobacco in his mouth. He spit a little bit off to the side and smiled, turning to face the mass of parts on the truck.

This bundle of parts was a large one. Mostly limbs and weapon barrels on this truck. There was a small hopper in the back that had several smaller parts sticking out. Random pieces of armor and parts of interior skeletal structure poked out like the tools of a professional torturer who always seemed to go above and beyond the duties of his job.

The bundle itself was a pile of ugly and even more ugly. The parts were various forms of drab green and brown cammo, mixed with mud, dirt, shrapnel shavings and gunmetal gray where paint had been chipped off. The whole truck smelled of various kinds of explosive residue mixed with biodiesel exhaust. They belonged to either the Coyotes or the Sandmen. Both units had similar cammo patterns. Both looked like a child went crazy with a digitized cammo spraypainter.

With a loud mechanical whir, the crane carefully dipped in and picked up a long, familiar-looking barrel. The man with the datapad shouted "AC-5, long-barrel, approximately 55mm."

Another man shouted back simply, " _Shadow Hawk. No sign of the rest of the weapon. Scrap."_

 _That_ got their attention for a moment. They stood in solemn silence as the crane lifted, pivoted, and gently placed the barrel on an oversized plasteel palette. Watching pieces of the war machine she was piloting just a few days ago be picked up and moved around like junk felt otherworldly to all of them. Martin always joked that the souls of the 'mechs were broken into smaller souls when they had armor melt off, or lost an arm, or in this case a weapon.

 _If that's the case, this is probably a very angry little soul._ It made her think about the fight again, when she got knocked down and out. Memories of giant feet crashing down in front of her viewscreen again and again. Leaving her sight almost as soon as they arrived. The occasional view of an arm-mounted gun pointed directly at her cockpit. _If they had known I was the one that called for Jawbone's execution, I wouldn't have seen the light of the next morning._

 _His call to bring in two_ Unions _to help trick them into surrendering was the right move. We were losing that fight, but then I suppose that was the plan all along._ LaPointe had mentioned this to her while they were negotiating for the battlefield salvage this afternoon. Given their situation, her superior portion of the salvage and the next mission at hand, she had opted for her fifty percent to go towards the captured 'mechs themselves and some of the semi-precious stones, which were easier to transport.

Bulk quantities of pyrite and quartz made up the vast majority, with some silver and a touch of geranium mixed in. They were in-demand for tank production and various electronics, and the geranium was part of a harder-to-find component for the Kearny-Fuchida drive that allows for interstellar jumps in the blink of an eye. She'd get more solid numbers later, but the rough estimate was a cool million C-bills for all the minerals and stones put together.

Unfortunately for the Coyotes, almost zero of the 'mechs salvaged from Selidran really worked into their TO&E. They were mostly too slow and lacked jump jets for mobility in a pinch. Given their next mission, they would likely get run down and caught or killed by the 2nd Legion. That also included their own _Urbanmech._ Emily had considered sacrificing it to buy more time, but she wasn't decided exactly how just yet.

She desperately wanted to make a trade for some of the RoughRider mediums or a trio of lights. She half-heartedly hinted at it, but she knew asking LaPointe to table flip his own TO&E and unit cohesion just to appease a separate company of mercenaries just wasn't going to happen. Impressed though he was with Emily and her unit, he had to take care of his own first.

 _Ironic how the unit essentially going in first and outgunned beyond all recognition is also the lowest on the totem pole when it came to getting ready for this fight. But that's mercenary life for you. I'd do the same thing in LaPointe's position._

For now, until they came up with a better plan, the three remaining Coyotes in command had settled on a thirteen million C-bill credit from the RoughRiders to be cashed in later when the campaign was over. This allowed the much larger regiment to take the four heavies and remains of everything else.

LaPointe had promised them just about whatever they wanted in terms of 'mechs to replenish their own company. Dusselhoff had promised them access to the logistical assets at Firebase Yankee to keep repairs and refits up to snuff, in the meantime. But it would mean they were second in line.

The defenders of Suk II were on a limited timetable before the carnage happened, and both the planetary government and the Militia wanted their A team as ready as possible. And everyone knew that means the RoughRiders.

The prisoners and vehicles were also taken by the RoughRiders as they were more logistically capable of bringing any defectors into their own regiment much more smoothly. It was uncertain how many of them were still loyal to their former stable, but given the situation, something would create a rift between them that the RoughRiders could capitalize on.

As it was, she had to find out who would be the most comfortable with the new _Catapult._ It might have to be her. In what would be considered a one-in-a-million stroke of luck for Pearl, her gutted _Trebuchet_ was replaced almost the same day. The _Treb_ they ordered as part of the trade for the _Warhammer_ had arrived about the same time as she lost first one.

The Coyotes had been tasked with hit and run actions against the 2nd Legion for the better portion of a full day. Anything they could do within the Ares Conventions to slow down the 2nd Legion without being decisively committed to a fight would be within the bounds of their new contract. Emily was no fool. Salvage rights in a delaying action would mean nothing to the Coyotes.

She went exclusively for the money on this operation. Six million C-bills for a single day of fighting, with 95% of repairs and refurbishing being handled by the RoughRiders. All paid for by the Planetary government.

Nineteen million C-bills, plus the stones and germinate, plus their remaining 'mechs and equipment. A huge net gain if they managed to survive without losing all of their rides simultaneously.

The Coyotes had gone from sixteen 'mechs, four of them mediums, to twelve mechs in decent working order. One lance of them were mediums, and now the _Cat_ christened their heavy column. One _Treb,_ previously acquired as part of the trade for the _Warhammer._ To round it out, one _Wolverine_ , one _Griffin_ , and one _Dervish_ made up the bulk of their firepower. Two of the three _Fire Javelins_ , two _Firebees_ , a _Mongoose_ , a _Spider_ , and an _Urbanmech_ made up the rest of them.

Within five days, Emily had to come up with a plan for these 'mechs to stall the advance of about six dozen light-through-assault 'mechs for the better part of an entire day. Worse than six-to-one odds for a two and a half-to-one payout.

Sounded right up their alley, now that she considered what the Coyotes were good at. All they had to do was survive.


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

May 16th, 3025

Parliament Hall

Suk II

Orsula scowled at her agent reporting the bad news. "Apologies, ma'am. Pro-Lyran influence in the city is at an apex given the majority of the population feel a civic duty to make this attack as hard as possible for their enemies." The dislike the Commonwealth and the Combine had for each other, both on a cultural and historic level was one of the most heated in the entire Inner Sphere. It spanned dozens of planets across the coreward portion of the two empires, towards the center of the milky way. It was also what north would be on 2-d maps.

"Shall I enact Doolittle?" The agent asked, keeping eye contact to avoid the plunging neckline of her dress. Difficulty ensued, given her eyes were near her hear lustrous, curly raven hair which cascaded around her tanned chest and shoulders.

Doolittle referred to one of many various forms of commando raids on the water treatment plants. This specific one was a plan that enacted hitting the larger plants, of which seven remained. From there, she could spin public opinion against the RoughRiders who were more decisively engaged with the impending assault. Either that, or they would spread out to help defend the eighteen remaining smaller plants.

She wasn't exactly sure what LaPointe and his cronies were going to do without Hansen there to hold their hands. He had a few more weeks until he returned from negotiations at the Lyran Capitol. The two companies on deployment hunting pirates were due in another five to six weeks, but they might return early.

 _And screw this whole thing up,_ she thought quickly. "Yes, though please wait until the day before they land. I want them to have the option of defending and when they don't, the blame will fall on them. In the meantime, keep the fires burning in the capitol. Maximum spin against the RoughRiders. Refrain from using any burning bags until the Dracs are decisively engaged." She crossed her arms with a solemn look and stood, forcing the agent to move his eyes higher up. It didn't help that crossing her arms hoisted her chest up a few inches, either. It truly was a test of willpower.

Brown bags referred to the use of the gun-cam virus, which at least from reports relayed by Militia techs, nobody seems to have found. It was an unusual virus, that would keep moving itself from file to file amongst millions and millions of lines of code in such elaborate rhythm. It might spend a few hours in the computers that regulate proper coolant to the fusion reactor, then ten minutes up in the sensor array, then move back to the gun cams.

The only weakness of the virus was its semi-automation. It couldn't disable anything other than the gun-cams, and it needed to move itself to an area in the lines of code that cascaded down along something to do with the actual cameras. Thus, it was a risky endeavor, and one best started in a very long fight, where more and more of the forces on the side of the defenders would no longer be able to see where they were aiming. But it also made it almost uncatchable until that time came to activate it.

"One more thing. Remove one of the smaller plants, to add emphasis on protecting them as well. Do not worry, nobody will go thirsty this season, and they are simple to repair." He already knew that, and so did she. _But the general public doesn't need to know,_ she thought silently, _and those speaking the voice of reason in an angry mob can easily be singled out and silenced._

"Yes, my lady." For what seemed like the fiftieth time, he executed a bow that was more of a convenient way to get a full glimpse of her beauty, even for a split second, while lowering his head.

 _If I stay alive long enough, I will have seen her enough times in this bow, that I can construct my own personal memory of her, looking at her however I like. To pay such a price on my soul is worth it for such a rare opportunity._

Channel 8 nightly news at 11

Mach 'Beh

"Our studio has recently learned of several pro-Lyran looting sprees in the southern portions of Kingsgard, one of the southern districts of the capitol. What you are about to see are graphic images and are not for the faint of heart. We will offer you a moment to remove any young children from the room."

The screen flashed to a brief intermission with peaceful music, though most parents had already sent their kids to bed. Schools let out much earlier on Suk II, given the sweltering heat made for poor learning during the summer months, despite excellent school facilities. The "nightly news" at eleven o'clock was known across the planet for pulling no punches, so concerned parents would send their children to bed well before then.

This was also the best time to air any propaganda or for people to find whatever excuse they wanted to do almost whatever they wanted, given the situation. If anyone wanted a reason to get rowdy, they only needed to stay up late.

The screen then flashed to several bodies lying on the ground, unmoving, outside a chain of electronics stores, fashion boutiques, and once-lively coffee shops where you could get a pump of caffeine in any drink you liked, even if it didn't have caffeine with it. A shop with the sign "Godfrey's Caramel Goodies" had smoke coming out of it, and someone was laid across the bottom of the glass window with a massive pool of blood at the bottom.

"What you are seeing are the results of several pro-Lyran rallies earlier tonight, where seven people are confirmed dead and another twenty-two injured. Several people remain in critical condition at Fuchida Memorial Hospital. When we spoke with one of the organizers of the event, and how it later snowballed out of control, Carl Semirg had this to say."

The screen switched rapidly from the carnage to a very angry-looking and unattractive man, who shook his finger a lot and used very big head and mouth movements to draw the eye in. "When people are upset, they will go against the bonds of society to make their opinions heard. Our rally was peaceful, and what happened was well after the rally ended. But if people have dissatisfaction with the way things are going on the planet deep within their hearts, it's only a matter of time before it finds its way out." His voice was grating, almost irritating to listen to, and he never made eye contact with the camera.

Carl Semirg wasn't even a real person. A person like him in such a public position was a caricature that had been planted before the election campaign began, as a contingency plan while their inside man gathered more and more influence with pro-Lyran officials and the general public. He was designed from head to toe to be annoying, hard to look at, and even harder to like.

He was designed to be synonymous with hating Lyran supporters. This made it much easier for people to justify their own selfish actions and made it easier to convert to a pro-Combine lifestyle.

Having heard enough, Martin finally turned off the screen with the circle-and-point motion the devices on this planet all followed. "Ugh!" Was all he could get out. He was butt-naked again, his skin still glistening from his shower. "Whoever's getting people ready for a Drac-lead government is doing a really fragging good job. I wish this planet still used hand-held remotes so I could throw it at something and do twice the damage."

Martin was familiar with propaganda, and knew this person probably had less than a year on the payroll with pro-Lyrans. He knew the public would probably never see his face again, as they'd ask him to leave after associating him with this event. He would become some new face somewhere else while he built a nest egg on whatever planet he wanted. But it wouldn't matter. _The words in his speech were quite heartfelt and struck a chord, but he's such an unlikeable character that pro-Dracs will blame everything on him at this point._

A disposable scapegoat.

Pearl was sitting nearby and couldn't help but giggle at Martin's penchant for breaking small things. Or using smaller things to break larger things. He was known for trashing several motel rooms while on leave. When she heard about the circle-point method of turning things on and off here, she never stopped ribbing him about it.

"No doubt that's going to make our stay here suck just a little bit more, but we'll be in the woods getting shot at by Dracs anyway."

"I really, _really_ hope you guys don't get persuaded into some kind of urban riot control when this is over, because I want no part of it. It's totally out of our wheelhouse for about nineteen reasons I can list." Martin's missing left pinky toe was the source of his favorite number he would always default to on the fly. He was also a compulsive gambler and usually left his paycheck in the care of his two best friends, so he didn't lose any other digits. "Besides, the further I stay away from a big city, the better off my wallet is."

"We'll just put you out front so you're the furthest south of Mach 'Beh than anyone else," she said, and they both got a chuckle. The Coyotes were all leaving Firebase Yankee tomorrow to go dig in at Paphos Forest, so the mood was a mix of drunken debauchery and peace and quiet, depending on who you hung out with. The three toasted Rhys Kang every night with a shot since his death, but they gave Emily the night off from that to get some more sleep.

Everyone who was busy getting used to their new 'mechs in a hurry had spent the better part of the last forty-eight hours putting their new rides through the ringer to find out any little hiccups they'd need to know about.

Pearl and Martin had come in from an evening "run" which consisted of putting her new _Trebuchet_ through a series of sprints, jumps, twists, turns, and other straining maneuvers. Everything tested out fine during their "cardio" except for a slight hitch the left foot of the _Treb._ Emily's new _Catapult_ had had a similar problem, and the night shift of RoughRider techs were sorting both of those out before they left. Tarzan had offered to test the _Cat_ since Emily was on one more day of no-'mech duty and the RoughRider doctor insisted on it, even getting LaPointe to honor his wishes and ask her to hold off.

Unfortunately, Tarzan and Presto were both out of this coming fight, not having 'mechs of their own. Tarzan was still tagging along to help with the days and days of digging various holes. Everyone figured Tarzan was a competition runner during his spare time at this point, given how he was able to get away after ejecting, and having several bruised ribs to boot.

Presto was out for much longer. They had to medevac him like Emily, and he had a compound fracture in his wrist, plus whiplash from the shot that sent him crashing to the ground with authority, wrecking his _Firefly_ even further. Despite that, Presto was not jealous of the amount of digging he got out of for the indefinite future.

"Can I ask you a serious question, Pearl?" Martin suddenly looked very serious as he sat down on the couch next to her, patting her hand.

"Shoot."

"Anything happens, I want you to send everything in my account to my dad back on Hesperus. We finally had a chance to reconnect during our recruiting trip, and I want him to have it. Help him get his modi business back up and running with some non-family help."

Danek Modifications was a well-respected customization company on Hesperus, and how Martin got to start piloting at an early age. They specialized in light and medium 'mechs, and specialized further in humanoid 'mechs bound for Solaris. His father even offered eye-catching gold-plated panels as a form of adding highlights to certain parts of most humanoids. Nobody took him up on the offer. It was expensive and ridiculous, but his father would always offer it, mostly as a joke. When Martin wasn't going to take over the business, they lost contact with each other for years, and his father went broke when he became disabled.

"That's sweet, Marty, but you're going to give it to him yourself. Well, some Comstar hoodie is probably going to give it to him, but we can pay him a little extra to do it with some real flair. Maybe some chanting. Now go put some underwear on and let's toast Chrome one more time before bed."

He smiled and stretched. He was technically on a form of clothing, being the towel he sat on. Clothes on him was a different story. The two women had gotten over that long ago, but it made for funny incidents with the other personnel that were moving in while they packed up. He would always offer a " _Jenner_ hug" but nobody took him up on the offer. The entire company had a pool going on whether or not he would start a nudist colony when he retired.

"I can drink just fine like this!"

"And last time that happened, Dusselhoff came in and you were laid out like The Vitruvian Man on the pool table. Ass-up. Let's not go through _that_ again."

"Meh. Someone already put a towel over me by then. Kinda disappointing, really."


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

May 19th

Firebase Yankee

"Run that again!" The tech in charge pointed dramatically at the other tech, who thought they might have found the virus running around in their regiment's 'mechs for the first time in almost a month.

"Okay. Stop pointing." The other tech, a sixteen year-old girl, went back to their datapad, plugged into the miniature paddle of an arm of a _Jenner_ , scrolling through the lines of code that controlled the thermal displays a MechWarrior would see through their neurohelmet. Over one thousand years of coding evolution, and yet the old-fashioned _If_ and _then_ was probably the most repeated words in the entirety of technology.

"Sorry." The tech in charge of said dramatic point practically ran over to the shoulder of the pointee. The datapad screen displayed various lines of code, some simple, some that spanned multiple lines. All boring.

Then a paragraph that looked way-too-unfamiliar scrolled by and the pointer tech said " _there! Go back!"_ He pointed at the paragraph when it came up and immediately took a picture with his camera. The younger tech, the pointee handling the datapad reached for the screen capture button on pure reflex and the instant she pushed it, the paragraph vanished. "Noooooo!" The pointer threw his cover on the ground and a _woomph_ of brown-red dust landed on them both. After the small coughing fit ended, the pointee seemed heartbroken.

"Sorry boss, it's a pure gamer reflex." The young wizkid happened to be an electronic genius, and was able to get through numerous waivers to sign up for the RoughRiders in exchange for non-combat garrison duty with zero exceptions. "I warned you I shouldn't be the one doing the scrolling, but you guys can't do it all day every day. Did you take the picture this time?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Let's go take it to the boss and see what we get."

Raymond Bache Memorial Spaceport

Suk II

LaPointe had gotten used to masking his enthusiasm for news. Any news. He'd learned not to get overly optimistic about good news from lower-echelon troops. He cared for them just the same as Hansen, but he typically got the good news that didn't pan out, or worse news, from subordinates lower on the chain of command.

Two of the four techs assigned to round-the-clock "scrolling duty," back at Firebase Yankee were on the screen, personally keeping an eye on the single 'mech he was able to take off-duty for an extended period of time. The video feed was linked directly to his 'mech, and since he had to climb into it to get the transmission this time, they had better be on to something finally.

They had just come to him with another trace of the virus running around his entire damn regiment's systems, and they finally got an actual picture of it. What he saw was pretty underwhelming in terms of what he understood, only that it meant they were a step closer to finding out how to defeat it.

"So, since we can't figure out how to isolate it, what we figured we could do is immediately put a firewall around each folder it previously hid in." The tech, with a very dusty cover on his head, seemed to have a flair for the dramatic. _Corporal Wilson, and his team. So many names to remember, but it's nice to hear something good after almost thirty days of hunting for this damn thing._

The spunky young man continued. "We can't really set up a trap for it without messing up all the code in the gun cam folders right before a fight. That'd be counter-productive. So, what we're doing is adding one line of basic code that prevents it from returning again. It gets one chance and that's it."

LaPointe did some math in his head, based on how often the techs said it could move, and rubbed his temples together. The last few months had added more than a few gray hairs of his own.

"How long until you realistically figure that's going to happen, Corporal? We have three dropships full of Dracs about to make planetfall in less than two days."

The tech simply shook his head. "No idea, sir. We've found a way to isolate future locat—" the young man looked like he just had an imaginary light bulb go off over his head. "Actually, yes, I think we might have an answer, sir, but I need to confirm it's going to work first."

"Then I won't waste any of your time, Corporal. Let me know _immediately_ when you have something locked down. Good hunting." LaPointe cut the video and climbed back down. _Those men have about a day and a half hours to figure_ something _out, or I wasted a 'mech for nothing._

"Where are we at with their trajectory? Have they changed anything?" He asked his officers as he strode into the command tent.

"Actually, yes sir." Dusselhoff seemed mildly pleased with the news. "They're diverting to somewhere south of Mach 'Beh. Still good they're not going to drop directly on top of us."

"Yes, however it will put all the pressure on the Coyotes and the 3rd Cav to keep them from deploying without a care." Abramsen chimed in. "If they go even further south, there's no chance in hell any of them would survive in the open, not to mention dropship and aerospace cover fire."

LaPointe interjected again. "Which is why, if we move south early, then they can just go for the throat and divert back towards the spaceport. They'll come in rested when we've been forced to march for the better part of an entire day before a fight. Not going to happen. We hold here until they commit to a final trajectory, _then_ we move."

"No argument here." Dusselhoff again. "Some of our more savvy techs have begun rigging up infantry cameras to the major weapon systems of most of our 'mechs' main guns. If our gun cams go offline they can at least have a decent idea what their biggest weapon is aimed at. Did those techs have any luck yet?"

LaPointe shook his head. "Unlikely at best. They said they made some progress, but I'd rather rely on jury-rigged infantry cams at this point, the way that's been going. Said the virus kept moving around all the different files, and a 'mech's got millions of them. They got a picture of it this time. Hopefully they can write some code they can duplicate and send our way before the fight starts." The tone of his voice implied that wasn't going to happen, anyway.

"Sir, trajectory update." The junior officer assigned to major communications had the traditional holding-the-headphones-up-to-one-ear look about him. He wrote the message down on a piece of paper, handing it to his seniors.

 _Kid even uses pencil._ "No major changes. The kind of minor course corrections that makes it look like a final approach. Way too early for that. Probably wants it to look authentic." He wadded up the paper and casually tossed it back to his junior, who caught it with his free hand easily. "I ain't fallin' for that. Give it another twenty-four hours and we'll see."

Camp Bow Wow III

Naphos Forest, south of Mach 'Beh

Suk II

"Well that's one way to do it." Emily put her fists on her hips, surveying the 'mech hole like a mother looking at a child's room being cleaned up. Not cleaned up the way she instructed, but at least the spirit of the thing was achieved.

The hole had an occupant, and the occupant was sitting in its very own pre-dug grave. Nymph's _Urbie_ was jam-packed with enough random AC-20 ammunition all over it to detonate a small village. Given the Coyotes no longer had a use for a 'mech that was slower than their biggest mech, they decided to send it out in a blaze of glory.

"Everyone get a chance to put their autograph on there before we cover it up all nice and pretty?" She turned to their chief tech, Staff Sgt Dorek Zolnierczyk, who often just went by either "Chief," "Zol," or "gesundheit." Most people went for choice less likely to land them extra cleaning duty.

"A pretty damn-good work of art if I say so myself, Major. I'm still more proud of our jungle gantry system we had down south on Gimli myself, though." He smiled and did the same fists-on-hips pose, except he stuck his chest out a little further though just to make fun of the Major. "I took the honor of stripping the ignition sequence console, ejection console and the heat override console and welded them together to make a nice little three-button panel." Nymph can stick it to the inside of her _Mongoose_ somewhere and activate it when she likes.

One of the ideas for buying time was to use the _Urbie_ as a one-time shotgun blast. With one of the biggest shotguns ever made in the Inner Sphere. They had a simple sequence to make it work. Wait till enough juicy targets were within a hundred meters or so, then slap the ignition button. Wait six seconds, then slap the ejection button. It was tied to the _Urbie's_ jump jets, allowing it to break through the cover and get a little closer and more importantly, up in the air. Then, four seconds later, slap the heat override button, which was tied to over four-dozen smaller explosives all connected to the primer pockets of the 200mm rounds. All of that remaining ammunition was in that hole. A very appropriate sendoff for the last remaining weapon that used it.

Every round that had been welded, tied, or stuck with industrial adhesive to the _Urbie_ from head to foot was facing forward in a forty-five-degree arc. The resulting blast meant that at least _some_ of the rounds will hit _something._

This was Martin's original idea, but Emily and Pearl had elaborated on it further with the chief and this was the love child of that project. Everyone in the company had climbed into the clay-fired hole to sign one of the shells, the mud hardened courtesy of the _Urbie's_ jump jets. The last one had been signed a few minutes ago by Emily herself, and she caught a glimpse of some of the graffiti others had offered.

"For your ass only."

"This side towards enemy," with arrows pointing in every direction.

"See you in Valhalla."

"If you can read this, _get out of this hole, quick! It's gonna blow!"_

And other such nonsense. She laughed at a few of them and simply signed her name with the spray paint, knowing she'd be the last one to see these anyway, except for Nymph and her team. The carefree but dedicated Corporal had been assigned some of the more lackadaisical of the Coyotes at the start of their campaign on Suk II when it came to camouflage. The "Nymph's Ninjas," as they had been branded, were originally the "Nymphcompoops." A title they happily shook off within the first month of working with her.

Their task was to duplicate this exact hole as much as possible further north. About a dozen more times. The chief had procured some out-of-service fusion reactors of the small-'mech variety from the RoughRiders before they left. The kind of engines that had seen too many repairs, thus weren't reliable for combat duty for one reason or another.

After they were gently placed amongst various piles of scrap in their own holes, they had only one task: Turn on by remote control.

With any luck, and if the newly rechristened "Bouncing Betty" plan worked up to snuff, they only need turn on the reactors across a several-kilometer stretch of land, from east to west, which should significantly delay any advance until the Dracs figure out what's going on.

"Yeah, it looks good alright. Very end-of-civilization chic. You realize about fifty percent of our plan relies on Betty here being rigged up perfectly, right? It's going to be hell to slow them down if this one's a dud."

Chief Zol looked like she had just shot his family dog. "Major, you know I want that bonus as much as the next guy, right? There's about two weeks of paid debauchery on the line for me and the Nymphos. Sorry. Ninjas."

She chuckled. "How many nicknames does her group have at this point?"

"Last I checked, about seven. A lot of fun words rhyme with Nymph, like—"

"You know what, forget I asked. Looks great, chief. I need to go check the 3rd Cav's cammo to the west. Hit me up if you need anything. Let's wrap it up nice and pretty for the Dracs, clear?"

"Clear, Major. And thanks. I just hope your gun cams don't go haywire because I want to see this baby take off! He saluted with his typical sideswipe that was often mistaken for giving the _cut the engine_ hand signal.

 _One evil plan down, two to go._ She started towards the hoverjeep that would take her to the 3rd Cav's northeast location when Martin came running up to her, looking more than a little concerned.

"Dirk, come with me. 3rd Cav can wait. The commandos just hit all the large water treatment plants. _All_ of them."


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

May 20th, 3025

Parliament Hall

The shouts from the press reporters was deafening. After over a thousand years of investigative journalism, the tried and true method for getting someone's attention was still to be as loud and obnoxious as possible. _Some things never change, I suppose._ Prime Minister Huyck was silent as she waved for them all to quiet down, so she could address the dozens of people gathered in the deliberately cramped and stuffy room. Cameras of every size, shape and design all had various lights pointed at her.

A small footstool was provided to bring her up to a normal height to address the crowd. Her 165cm frame normally only showed her head above the podium.

"Thank you for coming. As of seven-thirty last night I have enacted martial law, as you all well know. At five fifty-five Alshayra central time last night, unidentified commando teams carried out raids against every single water treatment plant that filters amounts of water over one million cubic meters of water per day. The primary cause of destruction were the pump stations themselves, and not the hazardous chemical storage used to treat the water."

Her voice was soft, but powerful, thanks in part to the amplifiers of her microphones. The slight gravely nature of her voice helped keep her motherly persona going strong, but a small device against her throat, held there by her traditional collars she wore, kept her voice from breaking or becoming too hard to understand.

"It is important for everyone to remain calm. Suk II will not go thirsty. This act was in direct connection to the planetary assault due to begin sometime tomorrow morning." She took her glasses off, letting them hang by the chain around her neck. No one in the civilized Inner Sphere had a need for such an archaic thing as glasses, but some people still preferred them cosmetically. "It's time the people know the extent just how much water we have in reserve underground. It's been a long-time rumor and nobody has ever confirmed the true amount stored below."

She locked her arms against the corners of the podium and leveled her gaze across the entire room. "The amount is approximately three point seven _trillion_ liters." She paused for dramatic effect.

"I'll spare you all the mathematical details, but an until-now top-secret facility will keep Suk II from going thirsty for two whole months at the industrial level, three months at the commercial level, and four months at the residential level. Needless to say, because we're about to have a war on our hands on our lovely little planet, martial law is now in effect.

"Most non-essential businesses are closed, and people are urged to stay safe until this conflict ceases. This is not the first time our planet has been invaded, and it won't be the last. Our people have flourished here for almost eight _hundred_ years, and almost _seven_ hundred years under the Lyran Commonwealth. Now is not the time for petty bickering over who's flag is flying over our heads."

She unlocked herself from the podium and returned to her previous calm posture, hands clasped gently in front of her. She smiled. "Now is the time for taking care of your neighbors, your family, your friends. Make sure everyone gets home safe tonight. We don't know exactly where the Combine forces are touching down, but it's somewhere on Alshayra. Despite that, they have plenty of aerospace forces that could make it to any continent within an hour, so don't assume you're safe just because you're somewhere else.

"We will rebuild the treatment plants shortly after the conflict is over, and plentiful amounts of water rations will be given to everyone _as long as you stay safe."_ She added emphasis to persuade many of the rioters and looters to give it up and go home. "Water stations will be set up in every city, suburb, and along every major roadway the battle isn't currently being fought at."

Huyck darted her eye to one camera in particular with a pulsing blue light above it. "With regards to Minister Alvarez from Safekeeping. Denouncing our defending mercenary garrison forces the day enemy makes planetfall is ill-advised and foolish. They have a planetary campaign to fight, and information about our water reserves was passed along to the RoughRiders in order for them to plan for the eventual Combine forces landing tomorrow."

She shook her head slightly and looked down for a moment, as if Alvarez was her child and she hadn't done her homework the night before. "Based on this information, they were able to plan accordingly, instead of spreading their forces too thin to engage the Combine while also guarding all the treatment plants. The loss of life is again horrendous, and I accept full responsibility for that, but also forcing our own people to fight a losing battle on the off-chance the commandos would make another move is a sure way to lose the entire planet, and our way of life.

"There are two ways you could look at how this was handled. One," she said, holding a finger up. "I am an idiot and have failed at defending a critical source of life on this planet in order for our RoughRiders to fight a decisive engagement, sacrificing hundreds of lives."

She held up the second finger. "Two. I had prior knowledge of something that vastly affected how forces would be distributed on the planet, and the commandos did not. They then tried to act without knowing the extent of our water reserves, killing hundreds in an attempt to shame myself and the government. You can choose to believe whichever of these you like."

"I am willing to resign after this campaign is over, if that is what is necessary. But for now, we have a war to fight. Everyone get home and get safe, and we will ride out this storm like we always have before and emerge stronger than ever. Thank you."

The chorus of shouts again filled the room as Huyck hopped off her small footstool and left the room without another word.

Parliament Hall

Suk II

Alvarez blipped the screen off with the standard circle-dot gesture and laughed out loud. She was alone in her office this time. The screen had come on automatically while she was in the process of changing into something less formal as highest Planetary government officials were to be escorted underground while the conflict got under way tomorrow. She casually removed her rubellite earrings and tossed them on the table with a clatter.

"You just crucified yourself, you dumb bitch. Once I save this planet, your seat is mine." She resumed removing her ceremonial toga for some cotton business slacks and matching blouse. _Earth-tones. Gotta look appropriate for underground life._ She had publicly denounced the RoughRiders for leaving "so many innocents alone to die a gruesome death" with the intention of causing pro-Combine support to rally around their new martyrs.

The result was almost equally gruesome. Mach 'Beh was on fire in multiple parts of the city, despite newer fire suppression foam that was safe to breathe containing many of the blazes. Over four hundred commercial businesses had been looted, mostly pro-Lyran, once people had heard the news. Banners with things like "Go home, RoughRiders!" "My wife worked at Langley!" and more were laying on the city streets, trampled by everyone. Another one thousand twenty-eight were injured, and unconfirmed dead numbered between one and two hundred.

 _And that was just the capitol._

Alvarez slipped on some more comfortable athletic shoes, silently mourning the loss of her high-heels for at least a week or two, despite the added comfort. Dressing-down usually didn't really affect the sexual power she had over just about every male and even some females in whatever room she was in, but she always appreciated being at full-power whenever she had the chance. Even one-on-one encounters with her head agent who she knew was faithfully married was enjoyable, knowing she could watch him struggle with his vows.

As it was, she had almost half the entire Ministry of Finance in her back pocket if she ever wanted to let out a sweet scandal or two, and every single one of them were married.

She tossed her suit jacket over her shoulder and grabbed her briefcase, walking out with her aide waiting outside. She glanced back in, smiling. _Hopefully the next time I walk in here is to grab my earrings to take to the Prime Minister's office for good._

Location unknown

Suk II

J.J. heard the door open before he heard anything else. Days of confinement with almost zero human interaction had made him jumpy lately. The guards would chatter amongst themselves, but for the noise generators that muffled their conversations made him hunger just for a coherent sentence more than once per day when they brought food in.

A bed, a toilet, and a carpet with more than a few fibers pulled out from his constant circling. The room was bigger than your average jail cell, but it still felt like one. Maybe even more so because there were no bars you could see through to get a glimpse at someone, anyone that might want to talk to you.

On the bright side, his pecs never looked better. He was past his old record of eighty-two pushups. His elbows could be better off, though.

This wasn't around his scheduled meal time, so it had to be something more promising. An older man, who most people would mistake as frail-looking, and two much-larger fully-armed guards with the same clothes as J.J. walked in. The door closed behind them, and one of the guards moved J.J.'s chair so the older, much shorter man could sit down. He had an oval-shaped cigar and a combover that almost looked so much like a comical movie villain that it had to have been done purpose. Most people that wanted to look like something in his line of work, typically went for the most generic look possible.

This man stood out more than anyone he'd ever met.

The man held no military rank. He was a major underground crime boss in the Combine, probably the highest-ranking on Suk II by the looks of it. Only someone with such flair and disrespect for authority would be willing to be driven to an apartment complex full of armed thugs without a care in the world.

J.J. didn't care who it was, as long as he got to have a conversation. He didn't even care if his guards beat him senseless afterwards. He had never been so alone in his life until now, and it was only a few days.

"You know who I am?" The man moved his cigar hand a lot, always keeping the unlit prop level to the ground.

"I think I have an idea."

"We have some friends who are interested in what you are interested in. It's in your best interest that you stop being interested in it. We know you work for a Warlord. We here on Suk II represent a changing of the guard, and it's going to happen with or without your intervention, my curious friend."

J.J. simply sat on the small bed with his back against the wall, arms crossed. _He could be talking about the Combine moving in, or he could be talking about something more local._ "I'm trying to find out why the people changing the guard are alright with taking out hundreds of innocent people at Langley and the other plants in the process. And why are people taking out the main water supply of a place they want to set up shop?" He uncrossed one arm with his palm up in a casual manner, almost physically under handing the question back to the crime boss.

"Drops in the ocean, curious one. Nobody gives a damn about losses on an interstellar scale unless you have at least more than one comma. Kentares. Santiago. Capella." He ticked off some planets well-known for loss of life in one form or another. "You think you or I would be mourned if we got knocked off tomorrow as part of some big wig house leader's power scheme? Please. We're all in this for ourselves."

 _I'd like to think I would be._ "So why come to me instead of just killing me? What's so important about my investigation that I get to stay alive and very bored for over a week?"

The older man nodded. "You live because of who you represent. Our organization, while happy with the changes that are about to come, have no grudge with your Warlord, and have no desire to start one. Your life continuing is a gift from us to him, one you must deliver to him personally. A message will be sent to him, informing him of what's going on here, as well as giving him your itinerary." He snapped his fingers, and one of the guards pulled out a small datapad, tossing it to J.J.

Catching it, he pulled up the handful of files on there, with one clearly labeled as "ticket." A pass on the passenger dropship Carpe Diem, _Princess_ class. He made no expression on the outside, but on the inside he was practically clicking his heels. A luxury cruise back to his Warlord simply to report he was still alive to deliver a message? An temptingly easy offer.

One he knew would have only one result. With his belly slit open and no one to call a friend there to cut his head off to end the pain while he reclaimed his honor in Seppuku. _No, I have a duty to fulfill before I can go home._

Making the decision in his head within a matter of seconds, he finally allowed his face to be visibly impressed with the offer. "All this for me? What's the catch?"

The crime boss shook his head, looking incredulous that he had to repeat himself. "No, not you. This is for your Warlord. With good tidings from Aizukotetsu-Kai and Alvarez for a prosperous future with the Combine. And if you tell anyone _but_ your Warlord about the names I just dropped, your family back on Rasalhague will be hanging by their intestines and burned alive before you even reach home."

 _Unfortunately for him, I have no family. They're just made-up names to screw with vindictive assholes like you._ He simply nodded. "Hai, wakarimasu."

"Time for the British goodbye, then." The old man clapped his hands on his knees loudly, saying "right," and walked out slowly without even another word to J.J. who remained seated on the bed for now.

 _Alvarez, eh?_ _Wait,_ that _Alvarez?_ The other name was a long-running syndicate within the Yakuza. It didn't mean as much to J.J. as the other name. He finally had his major player, who was likely responsible for everything on Suk II that was about to happen tomorrow.

Including hiring him and the Coyotes for guerilla operations to buy time and space for the 2nd Legion of Vega to make planetfall. Though due to her own miscalculations, that same force now stands in the way of her goal.

He had no idea on the planet where they were. He barely had any idea where he was. But he had to get a message to them. The lady who hired them was going to place them in a meat grinder just to get rid of them.


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

May 21th, 3025

Aboard Dropship _Akemi Ayame_ (Bright Iris)

South of Paphos Planetary Preserve

Alshayra Continent

Oka Kuri felt the otherworldly tremble of his _Overlord_ engaging the braking thrusters to turn an otherwise world-changing catastrophic event into a much more tolerable landing. Such a feat was often compared in difficulty to landing with a parachute on a mountain top.

He would feel more existential if the blood in his body wasn't trying to leave through his ears. He was aboard his _Cyclops_ , named Queen Bee, and couldn't go anywhere, completely at the mercy of the pilot of the Akemi Ayame. The captain was courteous enough to send the video feeds from various landing-angle cameras straight to his 'mech, so he had a better understanding of what was beneath him.

Right now, the only thing between him and a cataclysmic death were the fires of several small suns, as well as the occasional flare of even smaller suns while maneuvering thrusters periodically corrected their descent.

Despite the bright blooms below him, he could see so much from up here. One of the perks of command he had never been able to put into words until recently, was the privilege of seeing the planet from so high up, in all its glory, during a combat landing. The curvature of the planet was far more pronounced here, and mountain peaks of Gimli to the south were barely visible on the horizon. And the horizon from so high up had a lot more black than he was ever used to. Everyone else had to settle with staring at the inside of the 'mech bay, or the 'mechs across from them currently secured to their gantries, wondering when it would end.

If it weren't for the bone-shaking vibrations coupled with negative g's that allowed him to remember the last three meals he had, he might have even taken a picture.

The shaking continued for several more minutes as the planet grew in size on his screen to the point where it looked like it swallowed them whole. The plains south of Paphos forest grew in size, various squares and circles of farmland to the west leaving his field of vision.

"Attention Battle Rats." He tried to keep his voice steady the best he could with the edges of his vision losing their redness as the dropship began to lose its velocity, as if a giant metal asteroid had second thoughts about wiping out life on the planet as they know it.

"In fifty-five seconds, we will finally arrive on Suk II. We have had minimal resistance from RoughRiders due to our aerospace superiority. The plan remains the same. Secure the LZ, move north, take the capitol. Then the spaceport."

He took his eyes off the screen and stared at the 'mech bays stretched out around him. Other 'mechs of his command lance stood across from him, still secured during the landing.

"Secure the landing zone, and use any additional space to disperse northward as well as westward. Advance by teams. Everyone knows the disembark order. Stick with that. If and when we make contact, do not attempt to leave your dropship in a hurry. Advance by company, beginning with companies Foxtrot, Hotel, and Golf. Again, Foxtrot, Hotel, Golf. Acknowledge and good hunting. For the Dragon!"

About a dozen male voices came back affirmative, and the universe started to seem slightly more normal as all his blood returned to the rest of his body in places where it should be. His legs had become cold for a moment as only his cooling vest, shorts, and boots were all he wore. He was itching to go, to _move_ a little bit more since being in his cockpit for the last few hours doing nothing but talking. Talking and thinking. Talking and thinking. Getting reports from the commander of the _Vengence_ running aerospace cover for the last two days of the journey with its complement of fighters. And then more thinking.

 _I might take up the aide's offer of something in my tea to relax me a little bit more._

Over two years of preparation for this moment and his heart began to race when he realized how close he was. The dropship had stopped entirely, no doubt sending enough dust and minerals towards the rest of the world to build a small moon, or a space station. As everyone felt themselves bounce in their seat against their harness while the dropship touched down, the vibrations and ambient noise of the thrusters began to die down.

The six 'mech-sized doors all around the _Overlord_ raised up. Within moments over his nerohelmet he heard "Touchdown complete. You may disembark now, Sho-Sho. May this fight be swift."

He thanked his dropship captain and watched as the clamps holding every 'mech in place on the gigantic ship release in a resounding _clunk_ that echoed into his external microphones.

"Black Actual, Red Actual. Perimeter set. No resistance, over."

"Roger Red. Expand perimeter two clicks."

"Roger."

Finally giving _himself_ clearance as one of the last to leave the dropship, he filed into line, ready to sprint out. If there was ever a more terrifying place for a 'mech pilot to ever be than in the doorway of a dropship, Kuri didn't know about it. He had trained his men with competitions to see who could get out the fastest with his own _Cyclops_.

He watched every 'mech move with the same urgency he would have himself, one after another practically sprinting out of all of the six doors. It only took about forty-five seconds for thirty-six 'mechs of mostly medium and heavy size to get clear of the giant target of the doorways.

Overhead, several aerospace in a V formation screamed overhead. Several other squadrons were at varying altitudes circled or passed by much higher, waiting for someone to pop their heads up so they could fire the first shot of this war.

Kuri had no desire to fire a single missile or shell if he didn't have to, but he would enjoy firing the first one as much as anyone.

"Contact, bearing zero-two-two. _Fire Javelin_. Is he…

Another voice. "Hai. He's waving at us. Over two clicks north, not in range."

Kuri had no time for this, but the company commander in charge spoke up first. "Don't let him bait you. Stay in formation and advance. What unit are they with?"

"Mercenary. No Militia or RoughRider insignia."

The rolling fields of green all around them started to show younger saplings and trees only a few years old, getting larger as they went north.

He changed channels to his aerospace commander. "Gold actual, Black actual. We have light 'mech contacts at grid kilo-alpha-juliet, one-five-five. Requesting recon further north around Paphos."

"Gold actual, acknowledged. Zero resistance in the air, will recon edges of forest but be advised trees are too thick to provide fire support."

"Black acknowledges."

The forest spanned an east-west area of almost five hundred kilometers and was at least a hundred kilometers from north to south. _No going around at this point. We're committed, but it let us have a safe landing zone._ _A risk I'm willing to take._

His _Cyclops_ thundered along the plains, turning fallen branches into smashed wooden fibres and small rocks into dust. To either side of him, 'mechs cruised along slightly ahead, rolling over the hills with ease. Footprints the size of most small cars made the trail behind them look like a herd of metal dinosaurs had just come through. The tiniest of prints from a _Locust_ stuck out from the edge of a _Marauder's_ footprint, as if the smaller bird-like creature was captured in the hypothetical jaws of a much larger bird-like creature on the food chain.

The treeline, approximately fifteen kilometers in front of them, was gradually getting bigger. Nobody in his battalion, designated as Black, was up in front of the pack. Red, the designation for his second battalion, combined the two colors in the Combine crest, was in charge of forward recon and handling the flanks. Their 'mechs were lighter, faster, more agile for that sort of work. His black battalion was for the decisive engagements. For when you absolutely, positively, wanted to hold a patch of land and what was inside it.

His red battalion was in front and on either side of him forming a tentative wedge. When push came to shove, they simply got out of the way for the men with the bigger toys. Though he begrudgingly had more respect for lighter 'mech pilots. It took a crazy or dedicated pilot to be able to move at such breakneck speeds while constantly being tossed around in your seat like a bull trying to buck off a particularly annoying mosquito. While the insect was also giving commands to the bull.

 _And being able to land their shots when it counted while doing all that, too._ He truly believed the real skill was in light 'mech piloting, only losing slightly to aerospace pilots.

His _Cyclops_ had more sophisticated electronics, and made for an excellent C&C 'mech. Due to the declining nature of combat tech over the last few hundred years, this was only beaten by actually sitting in a dedicated command vehicle, with practically no protection. A dangerous endeavor, and not a worthy tradeoff to a _Cyclops_ in Kuri's opinion.

So he lumbered on, over two stories above the ground while his 'mechs continuously relayed new information. The _Fire Javelin_ reappearing with another wave, this time in mid-jump. Like a bullfighter brandishing his muleta, inviting the charge. Several of his own command company were irritated to hear this, even second-hand, without being in range to fire a shot themselves.

A minute later, a _Firebee_ appearing five kilometers to the west and running at near top-speed over the grassy knolls back to the forest, almost implying "hey, wait for meeee" to his comrades. A few missiles came from a from a _Valkyrie_ , poorly aimed out of range, not even able to start a brush fire.

The distance on his range counter to the most unimaginative waypoint "one" was ticking down steadily, now under five clicks. 2nd battalion should be—

"Multiple power-up contacts. Another lance, makes two now. Stand by for 'mechs." His speakers were picking up the increasing noise of some of his own fighters getting much closer."

"Black actual, gold actual."

"Go, gold." _Keep it short, people. Don't get hung up on protocol right now._

"New lance powering up, plus possible armor contacts within tree line. Unknown numbers, confirmed four LTV-4's. Visibility almost zero after two clicks into forest. Will advise."

"Roger gold. Stay on station and strafe at will. Out."

More missiles arced from the base of the forest towards them. Several hit one of his _Dragons_ ahead and to his left. Since it was the only visible explosion, even the smallest booms can have a more dramatic effect. Tiny specs of metal flung out from the crater in its shoulder, but kept lumbering on, albeit adding some more zig and zag to its speed.

Since he wasn't tied directly into each lance and company's own communications, for his own sake of not having his ears bleed from overlapping voices, he wasn't able to hear everyone report every missile lock and sensor trace. No doubt his pilot had a brief moment of panic followed by a wake-up call from taking the first hit of the battle.

"Black actual, red actual."

"Go red."

"Two light lances all with camouflage netting draped over the shoulders like ponchos. Reporting sensor locks of five seconds or less before they get out of range again. Red is entering forest now."

"Roger red. Advise all of red to hold formations and focus on snap shots with their biggest direct-fire weapon. Give them fewer things to focus on."

Several rhythmic vibrations and dust clouds emerged from just inside the heavy tree line.

" _Minefield_!" A young voice breaking protocol at the shock of what they just ran into. Likely someone up in front, accidentally hitting all-comms. "Shit, sorry! All battle rats, minefield just inside the treeline! Unknown size." _Nothing like doubling-down if you've already made a mistake. At least that was relevant intel that everyone needed to know immediately._

One of his consoles allowed whatever preferences he wanted regarding comms. Any battalion-wide, command lance, or command company transmission would scroll to the info of the pilot, their 'mech, and callsign, which he all knew by heart at this point. "

"Cold ICE start! New contacts, bearing zero-two-zero. LTV-4's. One company." A voice breaking protocol. Followed by a bright flash just within the tree line as multiple PPC's fired simultaneously at one of the 'mechs in red battalion. It was too far away to see visually, but another console gave colored updates that scrolled similarly to his comm console.

As his curious eye was receiving an update on a _Panther_ in red, a secondary flicker of blue and white light silhouetted the 'mech against the backdrop of the forest once more, and a large piece of the light 'mech went flying upwards. His readout updated again as the _Panther's_ status went from a light yellow to black, indicating it was out of the fight, missing an arm. Several other 'mechs up in front reported minor or moderate damage from the barrage, but only one 'mech was out of the fight for now. _Damn._ _First blood to the defenders._

His very angry red battalion answered back with a barrage of snap-shots that set the entrance of the nature preserve ablaze. A small explosion went off from deeper in the forest, highlighting many old, thick trees that seemed to twist in impossible directions. Waypoint one was now reaching the three kilometer mark, and the edge of the forest was getting very crowded with dozens of 'mechs, most of the ones in front at a full stop.

"Black actual, red actual. Minus one friendly _Panther._ It's Kinoko. Alive but unconscious _._ No fires detected. LTV alpha strike, milita tanks. Return fire confirmed one LTV kill, rest disengaging at flank speed, over."

"Black acknowledges. Advise using energy and small weapons fire to clear a path through the minefield until you reach the tracks of the enemy 'mechs and tanks. I'll get the medevac."

"Roger black, _arigato._ Out."

"Lavender actual, black actual." His logistics team, albeit much smaller, had one compact VTOL that had been transported out of the dropship and should be "unpacked" by now for medevac purposes.

"Go black."

"Requesting medevac at kilo alpha juliet, one-five-two. Downed _Panther_. Pilot unconscious, no internal fires. LZ will be hot but secured at arrival. Air cover on station."

"Roger black. Still unpacking, ETD two minutes, ETA four minutes, over."

"Roger Lavender, out."

"Black actual to all black units. Minefield approximately two point five clicks ahead of actual's position. Use energy weapons and machine guns to sweep directly ahead of you, then fall in behind red battalion's tracks until we find out how deep it goes. Alphas nine through twelve, you're covering the medevac for Hawkeye until it leaves, returning to LZ to reestablish perimeter. Sweep around his 'mech while he's unconscious. Company actuals acknowledge and everyone get moving."

Two other voices roger'ed up, as well as his command company's 3rd lance. The multitude of larger 'mechs began to dissapear behind several twisting columns as they entered the forest. He had seen trees like this before on other planets, but the lighter gravity on Suk II made for some interesting, almost vine-like twisting of these trees imported from Terran seeds that sometimes even went horizontal. Several small _whumps_ preceded large clouds of dust as some of the larger obstructions were cut down and then fell on a random mine.

Their progress at this point was becoming painstakingly slow, but it was a big forest and they couldn't have mined the entire perimeter of the capitol and the spaceport once they realized the Legion wouldn't be landing there.

Kuri made a quick change over to his 2nd batt comms for a moment, just to get another quick snap shot of what's going on in front of him without bothering with lengthy protocol. A commander's time was precious, and any time he could save could save lives, including perhaps his own.

"—tact, bearing three-four-zero. _Catapult._ Target Hotel. Most missiles hit the trees."

The forest technically began several kilometers behind him, but the real tree growth was a mere few hundred meters in front of him now. Several more fires started in front of him just to his left as the _Cat_ 's mostly missed LRM's began to burn the twisted vision before Kuri.

"New power up contact, bearing zero-five—He's jumping!"

A very large yellow flash erupted several kilometers ahead of him. In the distance, an _Urbanmech_ had immediately powered up, jumped, and was launched backwards by an incredible amount of force. Multiple 'mechs in front of it were hit by the blast, though nobody was really sure how it happened.

The thirty-ton garbage can with legs performed an acrobatic feat no 'mech of its size had ever done. Or would ever do again unless the tactic was duplicated. It did a partial somersault while also moving backwards. And _bending_ backwards. Whatever was mounted to the _entire 'mech's_ exterior had pushed the legs backwards, and the _Urbie_ did a full-on faceplant directly into the dirt. The back edge of the hole it jumped out of caved beneath it, and it slid partially head-first back in. The legs came down with a pair of thumps, and nothing moved after that.

"There's no one inside it!"

 _A trap. A suicide mission for a 'mech with no pilot._

Red batt comms went haywire for a few seconds as everyone started to grasp what just happened. Several of his 'mechs took a little damage, and one of his _Shadow Hawks_ was limping. _Maybe took taken one in the knee._ He checked the list. One of his newer pilots, callsign Scroll. Fortunately _,_ nobody was knocked out from that little ploy. He chimed in. "All Red pilots, this is raven actual. Slow your advance to fifteen KPH and cease all pursuit. Stay together. This probably isn't their only trick. Make sure Scroll gets out. Drag him if you have to. Out."

The initial surprise of realizing their regimental CO was listening in on all that washed away some of the initial shock of the trap, and everyone slowed down to a more cautious pace. The lights knew those orders didn't really apply to them—they needed to keep moving and observing as much as they could while avoiding the actual fighting.

"Black actual, red actual." He wasted no time waiting for a response, seeming rather nervous himself. "Vanguard scouts report another minefield directly ahead of us."

Within seconds, flames began to spread rapidly in an arc encircling the entire edge of the forest behind them. "Raven actual, this is Black bravo seven."

He eased up on his own foot pedals slightly, bringing his _Cyclops_ more in line with the rest of his Regiment's overall speed, though that didn't take much at this point.

"Go seven."

"Repeating message on most general channels."

"Copy."

He changed channels and heard an old song. He recognized it instantly, but he couldn't remember the name of the title. His _Cyclops'_ modest computer AI played the details of it in a small scrolling ticker across one of his screens. He recognized the title now. It was infamous.

 _A Night on Bald Mountain._

His computer chimed in. The female voice was overly calm. "Forest fire detected, bearing one-four-zero."

Seconds later, "one-six-zero."

And again. "One-eight-zero."

 _The mercs must have lit it. They're trying to close the door behind us._

"New power-up contacts! Bearing three-five-zero through zero-one-five! Over a dozen of them!"

 _Oh hell no. "_ All battle rats, listen up. This is raven actual. Withdraw, immediately, bearing due south. Get out of this forest before the entire thing goes up in flames around us and we run into more traps. Get out. _Now."_

Responding to the order, his men seemed disappointed, but justifiably relieved. The fire only had one way to burn. Directly into his 'mechs. It would be pushing their heat sinks to levels that would make it difficult to fire consistently, even with his modifications in transit. Their sensors wouldn't be as good, either, and they were only going deeper into the forest. _Let the fire take their sweet nature preserve and remove their cover. And their mines._

"All battle rats, raven actual. Regroup at kilo-alpha-juliet, one-five-three and reestablish a perimeter. Use the same paths we came in on." He punched in the coordinates to be broadcast to his entire regiment. "We'll go due east from there, around the forest. I want any lance going faster than seventy-five KPH moving all the way to highway K-5. Secure it immediately for northern motion. Move it!"

His regiment wasn't slowed down with infantry or heavy armor, so he relied on his pilot's mobility and the option to simply switch battlefields entirely if it suited him. Some called it cautious, some called it cowardly. He simply called it careful. The _Dragon_ would not approve of his little operation if it also cost them dearly. And he still had the RoughRiders to contend with. He needed to be at full strength for that.

His 'mech sauntered through flamed thirty meters deep already, satisfied he made the right call.

 _Round one to you, my merc friend. Many rounds remain._

"Wow, they're actually going completely around. Awwwww…" Clothesline tried to sound disappointed, but relief coated his voice. "There goes our salvage."

"Can't say I ever saw that at the 'Ring. Way to go babe. Err, Major." Mother Hen sounded more embarrassed than anything.

Dirk laughed in her own helmet, snug in her _Catapult_ with her hands on the sticks."You know we aren't getting any of that anyway, Clothesline. The farmers will probably get more than we ever will on this campaign. All Coyotes, turn off the music, and the reactors. Your days of digging were not in vain today. Mother Hen, ask the firefighters to come in and extinguish what they can. They can follow our tracks through the minefield.

"Good job, people. Everyone shift due east and we'll continue to shadow the big ones. Watch the pits. We probably bought the RoughRiders another three or four hours if they go all the way around the forest." The now-signature chorus of high-pitched howls responded, and her ego felt about as big as her _Catapult._

"Was it good for you, Nymph?"

"The best sendoff I could ever hope for, Major." She could almost hear Ampliiaa grinning from half a kilometer away in her _Mongoose_ as it turned to walk steadily eastward, probably still patting the jury-rigged "ConZole" his chief had stuck somewhere in her cockpit.

They never got to use the second part of their plan—the dozens of pitfalls of varying shapes and sizes, all made as close to invisible as they could manage.

The final part, the controlled forest fire, was started with some high-grade fuel that the captain of the Militia dropship was kind enough to loan them. She didn't really expect them to simply turn around and run, but forcing them to go around the forest entirely still helped buy the RoughRiders time, and was still considered a win.

The song idea was all Martin. Chief Zol supplied the program that allowed each 'mech to play it on a separate general channel, clogging nearly all of them. He figured a lot of locals would also be very confused for the duration of the loop, though she estimated they only got about ninety seconds into the classic song before they turned and ran. _Good choice, Marty._

She considered herself lucky this was a primarily 'mech-based regiment, acting without heavy supporting forces on the ground like infantry, or that plan would have never worked. Of course, she'd have to pay for that later, but maybe she could negotiate some of that from the _Panther_ they'd left behind.

There were no salvage trucks nearby on this particular mission, but since they held the field for the foreseeable future, someone might swing by and get it for them.

She also met with a lot of the local farmers with the spare days she had with a message _: If they leave it behind, take anything you can._ They were happy to oblige—'mech parts went for a good price on this planet, especially the easier-to-carry electronics. And most of them had the means to haul something of that size. Her dad was a farmer, and a farmer's truck was one of the most valuable—and most useful—things they owned.

It was how she walked in her first 'mech—pieced together from local farmers over the span of several wars. It was an abomination and she loved it. The Wrights had a knack for getting to battlefield salvage before the actual salvage vehicles arrived. She suspected they sold a lot of it and were able to use it send her to college instead of a poor farmer's wages.

She suspected that _Panther_ would never walk again in this life. However it would live another life together with many other "souls" Martin usually joked about.

If that was true, she wondered if it would argue with itself a lot. Her family's 'mech, nicknamed Golem, certainly felt that way.

A picture of her and her parents standing in front of its leg was clipped to her _Cat's_ cockpit. _Pearl's gotta meet 'em. Wait, wait. Let's get through this war,_ then _she can meet 'em._


	32. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

May 21st, 3025

Northeast Paphos

Alshayra continent

Suk II

J.J. bounced against his restraints and most forms of common sense as his jeep bounced along the rocky terrain of the eastern half of Paphos forest. His detainment had been at a small suburb well-outside the city, and once he got his bearings, he immediately raced to where reports of the fighting broke out. Social media wasn't as prevalent since the thousand or so years since its inception, relying mainly on HPG transmission to get the word out to people across multiple star systems.

Some planets did have such media, however, and Suk II was one of them. Despite martial law, lots of curious bystanders and news reporters were still out in force. He checked his dat-phone in between big bumps:

 _"I see smoke from the nature preserve!"_

 _"Tons of gunfire and lots of smoke at the south end of Paphos! Stay safe everyone!"_

 _"They came out of the forest fire like dozens of armored giants from hell who didn't care about the heat and went east. If you live anywhere near K-5 at kilo-marker 350, get underground!"_

 _"OK, who lit a match in Paphos? Don't the Dracs know that's off-limits?"_

The last one made J.J. chuckle at the absurdity of warfare, sometimes. He knew if the Combine landed south of the capitol, Emily and her people would be hired to meet them, and a place like Paphos sounded right in their wheelhouse.

Now he just had to find them. Which wasn't going to be easy, but if the Legion forces had forced their hand by now, they likely wouldn't be in their deep cover, so it was still possible. If he could find some tracks the size of his own jeep, he could find them.

 _They likely had to be at least within a few clicks near wherever the 2nd Legion was. Nobody could make a whole regiment change direction with just one company, assuming she still had most of her equipment since Langley._

He knew the RoughRiders were on their way, and since there was fighting already happening, it had to be the Coyotes and/or the Militia holding them off. Before his capture, he had received news that the Militia had neutralized the guerilla raiders "with help" from mercenary forces. A photo from the camera showed a pair of _Fire Javelins_ alongside a multitude of Militia tanks to showcase local strength over mercenary strength.

 _Anyone with two more more Fire Javs was most likely the Coyotes, so they were freed up for a new contract, like stalling the Legion. Hope they're okay._

That thought gave him pause for a sec. He'd worked with mercenaries before, but never this close. The last group didn't have much personality. The Coyotes were always trying to prank each other between missions, and they got J.J. a few times. Shaving cream in his toothpaste, bombing his rations with hot sauce. Generally lighthearted things that didn't affect performance much. Except he almost had to start the Langley mission with horrible gas. Hot sauce did that to him.

There wasn't a whole lot else to do while bobbing up and down on the terrain. He had at least a few dozen kilometers to go when he turned eastward, deep in the woods already. The white flag above the jeep had turned a reddish brown by now. Since he didn't take his ticket back to Rasalhague, the agents that caught him would surely be after him again. No doubt the men assigned to "escort" him back to the spaceport were still nursing a migraine or two.

If he went back to the Coyotes for good, they couldn't stay here. Not with all the espionage hullabaloo surrounding J.J. He wasn't even sure if they'd want that around him. It saddened him a little bit, and he wasn't sure how to react to that. He had some info about Alvarez that he needed to get to the Coyotes first, then they could decide what to do next. He still needed to deal with some of the Yakuza on-planet. Something he could bring back to his Warlord.

 _I guess I'll know by the time I get there._

Southeast Paphos Nature Preserve

Alshayra continent

Suk II

 _Well, that didn't work._ Alarms were blaring from multiple places in Emily's cockpit. She reversed her speed and turned to the left, trying to shield herself with the good armor on her right.

"Contact!" She practically screamed it as her right side was rocked with ordinance and laser fire of all kinds. She heard her missile lock warning more as an afterthought, as the missiles had already hit from such a close range before her computer even recognized it.

"Copy, read about one company from your sensors, Dirk."

"Nope! At least two, maybe three down there! Get back behind the ridge and get some distance between you and them, _now!_ Get back in the forest, Coyotes!"

 _Apparently, fire support 'mechs are on the bottom of the list when it came to electronics,_ she realized. Pearl probably had told her that at some point in their relationship, probably many times, but it didn't _really_ strike her how inferior some mech's sensors were, relying more on their comrades for information and target locks.

Almost all the armor on her heaviest 'mech had been removed in about five seconds, which was incredibly disappointing. But if she had requested anyone else check over the ridge to get a better view, they would have been dead.

 _Just trust the sensors next time. It's not like you have a choice anymore._ There was some metal from this area of the forest that was messing with all their sensors in the worst way, but apparently the Legion had the same problem and had their weapons trained on the entire ridgeline at this end of the forest as a precaution.

 _Shit. That's gonna cost us some time. Hopefully it'll cause them to march a little slower while they clear the metal field._

"Dirk, Clothesline."

"Go for Dirk."

"I've got visual for now, about two clicks east of you. Pull off there and I'll let you know when they see me." His _Wolverine_ also had plenty of armor, but his head was on the top of his 'mech instead of directly in front of her _Catapult's_ blimp-with-legs-and-ears shape, so less of him would be sky lined when he actually popped up for a look.

"Well shit. I just lost all my armor for nothing, then."

"Them's the breaks. Glad you're alive."

"Thanks."

Until their metal field debacle, the Coyotes had moderate success using a spotter and their abundance of LRM's from high ground to peck away at the slower 'mechs, but that was almost impossible here. This end of the forest gave way to the K-5 highway and they'd have a clear shot at the city once they passed.

After that, the Coyotes would have to limit themselves to hit-and-run operations in their rear, vs. twice as many 'mechs their size, plus four times as many much heavier than that. And mostly in the open.

 _Unless I gave them a reason to…turn around?_

"Mother Hen, Dirk here."

"Go Dirk.

"What are the odds of us taking on an _Overlord?_ Do some of that crazy 'Ring analysis for me."

A heartbeat pause. "Not terrible, if there were only one of them. Two? We're all probably dead inside of sixty seconds. And they have air cover. Don't even think about it."

"What if we didn't give them the angle to use all their weapons?"

Another pause. If it were anyone but Emily, Pearl would have told her to shut up by now. Being the girlfriend of a former Nagelring student had its perks. "Add another minute, but same result. I see what you're getting at, though. If you get _right_ next to it, you only have to deal with a handful of guns, but we'll get shredded by both of them _and_ their local security before we get there, and by then we won't have enough firepower and we'll be pinned to that one spot. Don't do it, Dirk."

"What about their supply lines?"

Clothesline cut in before she could answer. "Wait one, ladies. We have three companies pushing into us, mostly the slower mediums. What's the call?"

"See if we can draw them back into the forest for now. They'll have to come scoop these guys up eventually. Anything to buy more time."

They both acknowledged. Since they were down a lance commander, Emily opted to simply put the remaining 'mechs into her lance for now. It was an unusual mix as it was, and a little large, but Nymph seemed to be doing okay directing general traffic of a reinforced lance while Dirk handled the higher-grade stuff.

"West…" It sounded like Ifrit was in awe, and the rumble reached her neurohelmet as a new sun dawned in the wrong direction for this planet. Between the trees, the normally bright blue sky of a late spring morning went a yellowish white. "The dropships are lifting off. Can't tell if they're coming our way yet." But Emily knew the answer. It felt like the Drac commander was reading her goddamn mind.

The Legion had no reason to keep their dropships parked where they were, with little-to-no local security, so within seconds the rumbling began to get louder, as numerous aerofighters zoomed overhead at a breakneck speed. A short burst of sonic booms went off in her ears and she fumbled for the volume on her external speakers.

 _I'm so glad they seem to be fit for precision strikes and not carpet bombing a forest in spite of us,_ she silently thanked nobody in particular.

No doubt their own forces felt those blasts, but they were likely ready for it themselves. And Emily felt like there was more than just three companies coming to clear them out.

"Everyone _back_ into Pahpos, triple-time! Get the hell out of here, now!" She turned her _Cat_ away from the clearing and began a loping run, dodging left of a large tree almost as wide as her 'mech was long. "Don't stop! They might be sending their whole main battalion into here!"

The heavy branches shook around them like a hurricane. Most of them held on, but several smaller branches went into Emily's cockpit glass and bounced off. The _Overlords_ must have been passing directly over them now, or so it felt.

After several kilometers of a straight sprint, some of the radar contacts became more readable directly behind her. She was almost at top speed, which was incredibly risky for such a large 'mech in such a large forest. She needed _distance_ between them, and losing one a set of LRM launchers mounted in her 'mech's very large and boxy "ears" was the least of her problems right now.

 _At least the damn things don't arm until after launch._

"New countacts, bearing oone, four, five. Twou-thousahnd meters." Despite Nymph's _Mongoose_ being almost a half a click in front of her, she had a better understanding of what was behind Emily due to the far superior electronics than hers. And her Russian accent became very thick in times of stress, such as this.

"How many?" Emily asked. That put the lead 'mech no less than a click and a half behind her, and they could overtake her _Cat_ within one minute at this rate. The only good thing Emily had going for her was she knew some of this forest better than they did.

"Approuximately oune coumpany, Majour. Moustly mediam to heaveh." _It's their main battalion. We couldn't make them go any deeper, could we? It'd really slow them down. They probably would have to double back to rejoin their lights—_ her analysis was interrupted loudly as one of her _Cat's_ ears scraped across the bottom of a huge low-hanging branch from a tree that seemed to twist up, to the side, and back down. She was jerked downward slightly as the 'mech took too much of a step and grazed it. Her damage readout showed just a tiny armor loss, but it was enough to break her concentration.

"They've stopped. Range increasing." Her accent seemed to wash away with relief. "Do we continue, Dirk?"

"Affirmative. Coyotes, set course for waypoint Dingo. Let's get our bearings and try this again. They obviously didn't want to risk the dropships while moving them, but they still don't seem to know our full strength in here. Let's keep them guessing." She slowed down her _Cat_ once she felt she was at least three-times their max range and checked a blinking message on her damage readout.

 _Top row of right-arm LRM launcher contains three jammed tubes._ "Well…shit." _One of the few places I have any armor left, and there's a bigass dent in it. Stupid walking cycle of this_ Cat _I'm not used to yet!_

"What was that, Dirk?" Pearl answered up on a private channel, unaware what she was swearing about.

"Oh sorry, Hen. I banged up something and have a few launch tubes out, but nothing critical."

"Oh."

"Anyway, let's get out of here. That was a total wash and we almost lost our only heavy. We'll try again in a few hours once they've calmed down. Maybe they'll leave some 'mechs at their next LZ we can bait out." She wanted to keep in the spirit of the contract as much as possible without getting her people killed, but she needed to accomplish something more…productive.

But she wasn't sure if she could find that fine line between contributing to the upcoming slugfest between the RoughRiders and the Legion without getting everyone killed.


	33. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Mach 'Beh

Alshayra continent

Wes Anderson sat in front of his usual desk with his hair perfectly in place. His usual solemn demeanor took on a more interested look, as various field reporters in and around Paphos and the K-5 highway just west of Kevilston.

"Glad no one's hurt over there, Carrie. What's the property and vegetation damage out there?" The field reporter on the right half of the screen was crouched behind the top of a small ridge. Smoke rose in snaking trails behind her that looked like black tornados in an otherwise peaceful sky.

"Minimal at the moment, Wes. The 2nd Legion seem more interested in passing by as quickly as they can, making a beeline for the capitol. Residents of west Kevilston and south Mach 'Beh are advised to stay undergrou"—an aerospace fighter bolted past for a split second on the screen at an incredibly low altitude, and almost instantly the transmission was cut short by the sonic boom.

Her half of the screen went black, and Wes's eyes went wide for a split second. "We uh…seem to have lost Carrie. Let's hope she's okay. We're also getting reports from the south end of the capitol, where people have taken to widespread looting despite martial law in effect. Mark Bismark is with us from the south side, Mark?"

The image of Wes slid to the left, making way for Mark, standing in front of several broken-into shops on a street corner. "Wes, it's total chaos down here. It seems with the Combine forces just hours away from taking their steps inside the city limits, and the RoughRiders closing in as fast as they can, most residents in these southern neighborhoods have already written off the commercial areas like the one you see behind me. This is just one of hundreds of scenes playing out throughout the entire southern area. Kevilston seems to be in better straits, as the 2nd Legion announced no intention to occupy that city during the initial invasion. It's a mess over here in Mach 'Beh, though."

"Is anyone hurt over there, Mark?" Wes' head tilted from one side to the other. His viewers were no doubt buying into his genuine sincerity, or at least the illusion of it. Nobody could really be sure.

"Yes, several people caught in the looting have been rushed to nearby hospitals. At least two are confirmed dead on arrival, and a few dozen are injured. Mostly glass-breaking-related injuries, and one report of someone throwing their back out trying to loot _too_ much at once."

"Thanks Mark. Stay safe out there." The screen then went completely dark as a series of explosions rocked the rooftop equipment on every major broadcasting station within a few seconds of each other like a rolling barrage across the city.

West of Kevilston, along highway K-5

Alshayra Continent

"Blacktual, Red Actual." _OK, there's a limit to how much protocol I want to cut._

"Go for _black_ actual _."_ His voice was stern but sounded more like a croak after the several-hour march through the muggy temperature that none of them were currently acclimated to. They'd been on planet for no more than six hours after over a month in the stale, dry air recycled over and over in their various spacecraft.

Meanwhile, his aerospace assets, remaining on-planet for longer than expected were performing low-altitude flybys to keep anyone with surveillance equipment well away from his battalions. _Thank the Coordinator they decided to stay. This was already bad enough as it was._

He already felt several kilos lighter. This was one of the times he was grateful he didn't have infantry to worry about. Even mechanized troops would be more exposed to the elements here, and unacclimated foot-sloggers would only slow him down after one good fight.

"Just passed India, now a hundred clicks from waypoint Javier. No sign of the Coyotes. ETA three hours, twenty minutes at this pace."

 _And then two more hours to get through the streets to Parliament Hall._ "Roger Red. Will increase pace to about 35 kph unless we get more contacts to keep up with you. Will remain about five clicks behind."

"Roger, out."

"Attention Black battalion. Increase overall speed to thirty-five kph unless we make enemy contact." Kuri took another sip from his drinking tube over the left shoulder. A bead of sweat flicked off his chin and landed on the nozzle, semi-ruining the relief flowing down his throat. _Ugh, I taste horrible._ He didn't think any indigenous forest-crazies to his west were going to come looking for a meal, seeing as they were all wrapped up nicely behind layers of varying types of refined, custom-made alloys.

His mind wandered for another moment. A few moments of silence were the ultimate reward for upper echelon leaders in any military. He simply concentrated on increasing the rhythm of his _Cyclops_ as he lumbered forward.

Over the general chatter he heard multiple lances moving their own rotation along to take care of any biological needs while on the move. Nobody had to get out, and thankfully the fusion reactors handled the incineration of any solids, while their water purification systems would take care of any liquid recycling. What it did require, though, was anyone not currently relieving themselves to take up about twice the normal field of fire they were used to in the meantime. Which meant some strained nerves, given the ambush they already ran into.

"Black actual, this is black-charlie-two."

"Go for actual."

"Message for you on secure channel alpha-five. Friendly mercenary commander in the area."

"Roger." He flipped over to the channel and introduced himself.

"Well helloooo, Sho-Sho. Or can I call you Colonel?" The voice sounded rather high on the pitch, slightly German, with about a mountain of snark. "This is General Ramone, of Ramone's Renegades."

"General? Aren't you supposed to have one company of 'mechs, at most?" He brought up his readout the agents on-planet had transmitted to him and saw a list of mostly medium and light 'mechs. Similar to the original Coyotes TO&E, except with some new additions from the Sandmen they defeated.

"Eh, two lances actually. Damn saboteurs knocked out an entire lance during The Langley Affair. We're due east about seven clicks."

"Affirmative. What are your intentions?"

"We remain on guerilla operations to disrupt defenders and caught wind of a company or two messing around in Paphos. We're gonna go get a better look once you pass by us."

"Affirmative. Try anything and we wheel back and claim what's left of your 'mechs for the Dragon. Anything else?" Kuri was getting annoyed at this man more rapidly than anyone on this planet thus far. And neither of them were even _from_ this planet.

"Negative. Good hunting, Colonel. Sho-Sho. Whichever." The sound of background static cutting out gave Kuri some peace and quiet for another moment or two. _Assuming the Coyotes don't show up again, but we gave 'em a good scare. Another six hours and we'll be in the city._

 _Of course, if the commandos hadn't screwed up so royally at Langley and apparently one more site, we wouldn't have had this much resistance. We should have taken the damn capitol by now._ Frustration at his plan unraveling after almost two years of preparation due to things out of his control was taking its toll.

He reached again for the water valve and got a clean sip this time. And was promptly brought out of his moment of reverie by three more queued transmissions coming in simultaneously, updating the status of the front line. He sighed and went back to running a unit of dozens, backed by hundreds. _Almost there. Just a few more hours left out of two whole_ years _. Almost there…_

Eastern Paphos Nature Preserve

Alshayra Continent

Suk II

J.J. brought his jeep to a skidding halt, turning up the volume on a Kevilston news report that allegedly showed two lances of mercenaries occupying the southern woods of the city limits, moving west. A cloud of fresh dust from his tires covered him and the radio. And everything else in the jeep.

 _Towards Paphos. Towards the Coyotes. As if an entire regiment wasn't enough of a problem!_

He racked his brain, physically, pushing his head to either side gently while trying to remember the color scheme of green on darker green with a silhouette-breaking pattern of tiny dots. _The Renegades._ _They had more damage from the Langley Affair at a larger treatment plant than Langley actually took and reportedly lost an entire lance from the blast._ They were on the same standard guerilla operations contract the Coyotes had signed up for, and apparently were still on it.

 _If we could tell them about Alvarez's ties to this invasion before they engage Emily's forces, maybe they'd join up._ It all depended on how hard of a sell J.J. and the Coyotes could give to the Renegades.

That last thought made him chuckle. "J.J. and the Coyotes. We sound like a band." Then, without the radio, he heard it. The unmistakable tremble of a 'mech's footfalls that began to get louder and made some of the smaller leaves above him vibrate so rapidly they barely appeared to move at all.

And they were getting louder. _Please let that be them,_ he thought, as he throttled up, honking his rather dinky and annoyingly high-pitched horn. The vibrations stopped as he was likely picked up on someone's sensors just now, but it was lost in a symphony of various off-roading noises made by the jeep crashing up and down.

Over the next hill, he saw the familiar silhouette of the upper half of Danek's _Wolverine,_ turned straight at him, weapons and all.

"Whoa there! Stop or we'll make you sto—J.J.?" Danek's voice never sounded better.

 _Further east…_

Emily thought it was a bit silly to get out of a 'mech standing as tall as maybe seven or eight Emilies to get out and do recon work. But given her last peek over a ridge almost ended in her 'mech getting alpha struck by as much as an entire lance, she opted for the safer option.

Danek was doing some mounted recon in his _Wolvie_ to the north and west, just in case they decided to circle around from up ahead.

She knew she didn't have to worry about infantry at this point, except for maybe the commandos, but they seemed limited to recon and saboteur work on the planet. She stood with some rather high-powered binoculars, watching the rear element gain distance between them near the main highway taking them towards the capitol. Kevilston stood ignored to the east as the entire regiment cruised on by. It still had a fantasy-like feel to it from this far away with some of the massive twisting trees still visible from here.

But it wasn't nearly as breathtaking as the view from above was. _Feels like years ago,_ she thought.

Since their ambush, the 3rd Cav was reluctantly reassigned to helping with the riots in the southern portion of the capitol. She mourned their loss of a crew from earlier today, but really wished they were still here to actually present a credible threat to the Legion.

She shook her head in frustration. _Just too damn many of 'em. The aerospace seems to be letting up, but we're running out of shaded real estate._

"Dirk, Clothesline here."

She put the radio clipped to her belt up to her ear. "Go for Dirk."

"You'll never guess who's back."

She paused for a moment. "The strippers for me and Pearl? No…wait…don't answer. I got this…"

He cut her off with a loud chuckle. "Nope. Our old Combine buddy who went on his own little private eye excursion. He came looking for us in a jeep and looks like he got his ass kicked more than once."

"J.J.?"

Before he could answer, Pearl cut in. "Dirk, Mother Hen. We have multiple visual contacts to our east. Hard to tell from here, but it might be some of the other guerillas, and we're not on the same side anymore. ETA five minutes."

"Dirk, Clothesline. J.J. just took off at top speed towards your position. ETA one minute. Only one sidearm in the center console. White flag on the jeep. No sign of him being hostile."

Emily was already mid-sprint back to her 'mech, listening in on the conversation. She snagged her neurohelmet resting on a nearby tree stump and half-clumsily raced up the wood-and-rope ladder to her cockpit.

She was already breaking into a fresh sweat by the time the hatch closed, as a dirty jeep with an even dirtier white flag poking up came straight at her, skidding to a halt just a few lengths from her the leg of her _Cat._

He stood up, coughing in the dust cloud, and yelled as loud as he could. "Alvarez! It's Alvarez! She's the one who set up Langley! All the bombings! She's working with the commander of the 2nd Legion! She's got ties to the Yakuza on-planet and is attempting a coup!"

Emily opened her external speakers. "What?!"

"I don't have proof, but they're trying to get me to go back to Rasalhague and let them take the planet for the Dragon! I can't prove a damn thing, but you can probably get Alvarez to admit it if you confront her directly! I don't think the Renegades know about it, but they're closing in on you right now!" He coughed in all the dust, but continued nonetheless. "If you tell them she's behind Langley they can void their contract and probably get a nice cut if they help you out with the Legion!" He coughed again, and sat back down to reach for his water.

Right as a bullet from a sniper hit him square through the side of his head. The shot apparently was aimed center mass but wasn't expecting him to duck down so suddenly. He slumped into both front seats, blood pooling on the passenger side at a rate that would surprise even some seasoned doctors.

" _Sniper!"_ Emily yelped, horrified by the sight of J.J. suddenly dead in front of her eyes, and she couldn't look away. "Everyone get back in your fucking 'mechs, NOW!"

"Who?" Pearl's voice cut in.

"I dunno! Maybe commandos. They got J.J. He said Alvarez was behind this whole _damn_ thing." No tears came this time. She knew they would later. Normally they just came on their own, but she'd seen enough death on this planet that they no longer flowed freely.

"No way…" Pearl's voice suddenly choked, with anger or grief, Emily wasn't sure. But it got much louder and was on company comms this time. " _Coyotes!_ We finally know who's pulling the strings and will deal with that later. Nymph, get Dirk's lance to do a two-kilometer sweep for snipers, spiraling outwards. Flock lance, face east and keep your weapons down. Dirk, we need to talk to that Renegade commander, and right now!"

Still staring at the blood pooling at the floor of the passenger side, Emily shook herself back to reality and blinked a few times. "Right! You heard her, Coyotes. Flock Lance, sweep all secure public channels and mash out parley requests on every one of them until you get an answer from the Renegades. Hurry!"

A chorus of ayes and a few howls responded, and several laser shots went out as some of the commandos were found out and burned to a crisp. The rest, about a half a squad of them, scattered for their lives as the Coyotes went on an angry manhunt.

Emily joined in on parley requests. On her sensors, she could see Renegade 'mechs beginning to appear. After about the longest minute of her life, she heard a voice on her own channel she was flicking through. "This is General Romero of Romero's Renegades. Parley at a time like this seems a bit like bullshit, don't you think, Ms. Coyote?" The man sounded like he belonged in a mansion, hosting a cocktail party for rich snobs, not in a battlemech.

 _General? You've got to be shittin' me._ "This is Major Emily Wright, Commander of the 1st Iron Coyotes. We have information that pertains to the Langley Affair and the loss of several of your 'mechs and your people. We request parley to discuss it, along with an offer I think you might like."

A short pause. "Any evidence to back this up?"

"How about the fact that we could have started firing over a hundred LRM's at you as early as thirty seconds ago, with superior numbers, from an elevated, covered position?" _This commander doesn't seem all that bright in the first place._

Another pause. "Done. Nobody moves a myomer on any 'mech, including us. Both sides power down until we're done."

"Done. Meet me on the ground." She swapped back to a Coyote channel. "Everyone stand down. Parley is on. Anyone on either side even twitches and you have orders to shoot them. Power down and stand by."

The tears started to well up as her 'mech slumped forward slightly amidst her own power-down, but she fought them off this time. She still had a mission, she still had people to protect, and _now_ she had a fighting chance at pulling it off.

 _Thank you, J.J. We won't forget this._


	34. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**  
Southeast of Mach 'Beh, Highway K-12

Alshayra Continent

Leutnant Jean LaPointe hopped his _Otscout_ along Highway K-12 yet again, trying to see if any forward elements were visible over some of the smaller rolling hills to the southeast portion of the capitol. Nothing showed up yet, just more trees and random civilian vehicles running for any cover they could find.

"Negative visual, again. What are we on, now?"

One of his RoughRider lancemates came over the comms. "One hundred…forty-one? Or two. I forgot again."

Another one, a female this time. "Forty-two. The pool is up to enough that the winner could buy their own _Commando_ or something of the older, lighter 'mech variety." 

Jean laughed. "What're you betting on, Venom?"

The woman replied again. "I have two-thousand C-bills riding on somewhere between two twenty-two and two twenty-five. But that's our own company pool. And another five hundred in our lance pool."

Jean whistled. "Damn, that's a little more than a month's pay without bonuses."

He had already beaten the previous record of one hundred fifteen, but his father asked that the new record goes as high as possible, to keep more of the spotlight on the unit in general and boost recruiting standards. The main battalion-sized pool was the largest, though it excluded his company to avoid collusion. The old record was beaten, and Sarna Interstellar Records already had a representative on-planet who would leave when the record was finally set.

From what Jean had heard, this guy wasn't in any hurry to go home, and he was happy to keep the streak going as long as he could.

"Rapier, picking up seismic contacts bearing abouuut…one-seven-seven." Then his voice went up sharply. "Danger close! Must have something messing with our sensors in these hills."

"Think they know we're here?" Jean braced himself for another possible jump to get a visual, and to possibly use himself as bait.

"I'd say fifty-fifty. They at least know you're here. Care to pop the strudel? LRM's on standby. Venom's old _Griffin_ had been replaced with a spare _Valkyrie_ , which brought their old _Otscout, Griffin, Wasp,_ and _Locust_ configuration to an _Otscout, Locust, Valkyrie,_ and _Commando._ Venom had been ransomed back to the RoughRiders after their fight down on Gimli which resulted in some serious losses for his lance, despite his single-shot _Jenner_ kill. Venom recalled the Coyote's food being no better than the rations the RoughRiders provided.

It took all their Battalion's remaining light 'mech parts and mothballed 'mechs to get their lance back up to speed, and back to a standard all-light configuration. Fortunately, the Coyotes were on their side this time around. _Let's hope they can do more than just their little Paphos shenanigans in the next few hours,_ Jean thought.

His split-second daydreaming was snapped back to the present when Venom confirmed she was ready for his next jump. He slammed his feet down for what felt like the seventh or eighth time today, and rode his fusion jets for about half the normal length of time. Just enough to get his head over the horizon, to see two fast-moving _Wasps_ running along to his right side. He went for a lock on the lead 'mech, but it failed as he came back down with a thud.

"Confirm two _Wasps_ running north very fast. No way their big guys could have gotten here by now. Probably forward scouts like us. Get ready for another jump in about ten seconds." He moved a few dozen meters to his left and braced for what was left of the large amounts of water he'd been drinking to push against him in ways that would make him have to pee very soon.

As he rose again, the _Wasps_ had slowed to a walk and were turned right at him. Further behind, he saw two _Panthers_ aimed at the spot he had previously jumped from. A PPC from each of their right arms went over his right shoulder as his lock acquired on the lead _Wasp_ this time. Machine gun fire pinged off of his 'mech to no effect other than making a lot of noise, and the lasers went high.

As he landed, he could hear a more distance roar of ten LRM's being fired from Venom's _Valkyrie_ , and the missiles arced over the low hillside into a series of dull orange flashes on the horizon as they hit their mark. "Good hit, Venom. They're keen to me now. Can't jump a third time yet."

"Copy. Think I hit something good, but can't really tell yet."

"All scorpion charlies, scorpion actual here." His company commander was calling his lance commanders.

A pair of "go actuals" sounded as he also chimed in the same.

"Talk news channel 1440. You've gotta hear this."

"Blue copies."

"Black engaged with a lance of lights. Stand by."

"Scorpion white is a little busy at the moment. Contact with a lance of lights. Care to summarize for us?"

"We'll bring you up to speed once you break contact. Continue south, bearing let the RoughRiders behind you clean that up."

"Copy." He switched back to lance comms. "Listen up, white knights. The cavalry will handle these guys. We have orders to continue south, so we can slow down the bigger guys from the east. Let's go."

Everyone swung southward, though as a single _Wasp_ poked its head and shoulders over the hillside, a rapid pivot from him and his lancemates with a flurry of shots sent him tumbling backwards in midair without a head. After they broke contact with no further shots being fired, his commander came over a private channel.

"Rapier, you get a chance to listen in?"

"Negative. What's up?"

"The short version is it was Alvarez allegedly responsible for The Langley Affair. You know, the babe in charge of merc contracts and such you slept with that one time? Said the Drac commandos killed the only witness, so it's all speculation now."

He closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. The two had shared a brief night of their own at a cocktail party, and it saddened him to see such an exquisite-looking human being responsible for such black-hearted things. He didn't _want_ to believe it, really.

He didn't want to believe someone he had gotten close to was responsible for the deaths of some of his own people, as well as thousands of others.

"I'm not gonna buy that until I see more evidence, actual. Anyway, we're continuing south. Will make contact with their heavier forces in about five minutes."

His gravelly voice didn't seem to disagree. "Let's just worry about that later. I just wanted to pass it along. Good hunting."

Further north…

Franklin LaPointe shook his head at nearly the same time his son did, though neither of them would ever know that. _The lady holding our garrison contract in the tens of millions every month is allegedly conspiring with the Dracs they're fighting._ _The MRB are going to have to send a whole crew of people to clean up this mess._ If Hansen were here he might have even tossed the whole contract to the wind if they had any actual evidence.

He couldn't give himself very long to listen to this talk-radio broadcast, but he got what he needed from it. _Emily's liaison had gone and gotten himself killed trying to find out what was going on. Even got himself taken out of a casino in shackles doing it. Then the commandos got wind of what was going on while they were doing recon work nearby and one of them apparently was more tied into this than the rest of them, because he took a bullet to the head for his efforts._

He found it ironic that someone so respectful and quiet was capable of so much mischief.

His lumbering _Battlemaster_ gave a clear view of the sun, preparing for its daily descent behind the gap between Paphos and Mach 'Beh to his west. He switched his radio back to the usual recon chitchat his son and everyone else were doing down south. Normally he allowed a counter to display on all his pilot's HUDS relaying the tiny number of consecutive jumps Rapier was at, but right now it was just a distraction, so he turned it off for everyone.

He knew of one remaining mercenary unit besides the Coyotes remaining on-planet, and that they were at near Kevilston, based on news reports being passed along to him. If they teamed up, that'd put them almost half a battalion coming up on the 2nd Legion's rear.

His mental calculator went back to figuring out the approximate time they might make contact, assuming his transmission went through. He didn't want to risk too much with such a broad transmission, given the work the commandos have been doing in preparation for this assault. If Emily made contact in the next fifty to sixty minutes, they'd have a shot at defending this planet without taking grievous losses. The air cover was still an issue, which tipped the entire thing slightly in the Legion's favor.

"Whisper, this is Dirk." He had overlapping channels, including one he had set aside for an eventual meetup with Major Wright of the Coyotes. He was rather surprised to hear it now, but grateful.

"Dirk, Whisper. Glad to hear you again, Major."

"Likewise. We have some news. We're up two lances with Romero's Renegades working with us temporarily. Take it out of my cut. You up for keeping this fight out of Mach 'Beh if we can bait them into Kevilston?

LaPointe was rather fond of Kevilston, particularly the west side as it had a sprawling performing arts complex. But he was a mercenary first, and there was merit to bogging down the Legion forces eastward, or just drawing them away from the capitol in general.

"You can try, Dirk. But it's unlikely they'll take your bait. You've become pretty infamous with that on this planet.

"We'll give it the old military college try, Whisper. Expect us to make contact in about five mikes with their rear."

"Whisper acknowledges. Will relay to my guys. Out." Despite the massive field of vision from the cockpit of a _Battlemaster,_ which to some people resembled an ancient Terran jet fighter's canopy strapped to the top of a 'mech, he only half-looked out as he walked, doing most of the complicated yet repetitive tasks such as walking a 'mech forward purely on muscle-memory. As far as 'mechs go, generally the bigger the ride, the smoother.

That gave LaPointe more brain power to do things such as commanding the better part of an entire regiment.

"Listen up, RoughRiders." He didn't bother for radio protocol when it came to motivational speeches. "We have good news and bad news. The bad news is in about five mikes we're about to pick up the pace and pound this highway into rubble." As he was talking, he activated the counter normally broadcast to every unit he had, except he adjusted it to a five-minute countdown which he started. "The good news is the Coyotes are back, and they have backup. They'll be flanking the 2nd Legion from behind just before we make contact.

"Everyone stow the Alvarez shit for now. We're in the middle of a war. That kind of doubting on our employer has no place here right now. Let us higher ups take care of that. Focus on keeping your shots on target and your heat just below the red line. There's a good chance we'll be charging right at them soon, so be ready for it. Save your strength until then. Focus on anti-air until we're decisively engaged. When that counter reaches zero, there better not be anyone moving less than fifty KPH or I'll shoot you in the ass myself to get you moving. LaPointe out."

The hooting and hollering in anticipation got everyone fired up on comms for a moment, then things went back to intermittent reports of contact here and there with forward elements. His armor and infantry were busy directly south of Mach 'Beh, setting up a firing line in case things went from bad, to worse.

Most of his limited aerospace were committed to hit and run skirmishes with the fighters up in the air. LaPointe had almost all his anti-air 'mechs in a single lance within his command company, so as he adjusted along the battlefield, the umbrella went with him. His goal would be to put himself where they needed the most anti-air during this next phase.

Every Militia unit was tied up in the riots allegedly caused by Alvarez, but he forced himself to think about something else immediately. _That_ pit of fire in his stomach had no place here right now.

All that was left was to keep marching until the Coyotes and the Renegades made contact.


	35. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

West of Kevilston, South of Mach 'Beh,

Highway K-5

Alshayra Continent

From up ahead, Emily saw Ifrit's _Dervish_ dodge to the right to avoid a small swarm of angry autocannon rounds aimed right at it. Had he been a few hundred meters closer, they would have blown off half his left side. _Oh, we got their attention all right…_ "Coyotes, Dirk here. Break right and start frogging! Someone get me a solid lock on that _Trebuchet!_

They had caught up with the rear echelon of the 2nd Legion, and they weren't happy to be tailed. They were even less happy to suddenly see the Renegades going renegade. The entire heavy battalion seemed to turn and come at both them and her new allies with the fury of a sports team being denied their big game with the defending champions, the RoughRiders.

She hated being in the rear of this fight, but it couldn't be helped. Her _Cat_ was already down to almost zero frontal armor, and it wasn't designed for front-lining anyway. She thumbed the trigger on her forty LRM's, rocking backwards in her command couch slightly as all the propellant nudged the angle of the mech several degrees skyward. She rocked back to her original position as she turned her own mech to the right to run perpendicular to the 2nd Legion with her comrades.

The missiles landed near the _Trebuchet_ , but he seemed ready for the volley and jumped out of the way. His trajectory was messed up as about a quarter of the missiles hit his legs, but an amazing display of piloting allowed him to keep everything level as he landed. Still, it took him a few extra seconds to begin moving again, likely rattled by the near-crash he just saved himself from.

As she picked up speed, she took a second to survey her people up ahead, now spontaneously playing a game of leapfrog with themselves. The two remaining _Fire Javelin_ brothers with a working mech seemed to be doing just that, along with Clothesline. One after another they leaped, while the other two stopped to fire northward at anything slow enough to not require a lock. Their _Wolverine_ looked more like a big brother looking out for his two little twin brothers.

 _Mother Hen_ was slightly out of sight, holding what used to be the left flank of their line. The two _Firebees_ remaining in her lance had leaped into Emily's field of vision, each one having their own rotation for cover fire and movement. As the lead _Firebee_ began to leap again, a large autocannon shell slapped it hard, ricocheting off of Adamman Sartika's chest, ripping off the right forearm mid-flight in a firey crash.

His callsign, Parkour, given to him after his acrobatics in the Gimli jungles was well-deserved. He was no stranger to midair hits, like the _Trebuchet_ pilot to the north. Despite losing the large laser in his right arm just now, he managed to correct his trajectory and come to a stumbling run while he regained his balance. Emily caught a glimpse of the landing after the hit and smiled. _They're all grown up, now._ Even she had hardened up, no longer coming to tears at the losses of her people, though she doubted that was truly a good thing in the long run.

Meanwhile, the hectic chatter of her own reinforced lance of five mechs had its own cadence to it. Nymph was once again directing traffic as Vi's _Spider_ landed well in front of Emily. It turned and fired its single medium laser while Ifrit took to the skies in his _Dervish_ for a brief reenactment of the story of Icarus.

"Your tourn, Dierk!" Nymph's accent, thick with battle, stopped her brief analysis for a moment. Emily slapped her feet down once more on the foot pedals, but only briefly. Her _Catapult_ did what could only be thought of as a brief jump, or a vain attempt at gymnastics. Several laser shots went high, anticipating a higher jump, and Emily hit the ground running once more at full speed.

Everywhere to her left, flashes of laser fire, explosions big and small, as well as random missile arcs went everywhere around her company. Most of everything went wide, some laser fire even catching Emily's mech but mostly too far to do anything but some surface-level scarring. She waited for her turn to jump while surveying the fight and floating her crosshairs over anything that would give her a lock. The rolling hills made that almost impossible at this running speed. She considered a longer leap to possibly get a lock in midair, but it took so long to get the sixty-five tonner through the entire jumping arc that she wagered she'd have a pot o' ammo waiting for her at the end of her leap, if she tried it.

"Coyote one, Renegade one. Where are you going?" Romero's voice cut in and had a touch of the pretentious even now, as what was left of his company was holding the farthest part of the left flank. Her maneuver had created a gap between the Coyotes and the Renegades southward. _If the 2_ _nd_ _Legion decided to exploit it…_ the thought was once again interrupted by a pair of missiles slapping themselves into the left ear of her _Cat_. _At least that spot still has some armor, but probably not anymore…_

"Get back here, damnit!" His voice sounded like it was sliding on the spectrum from holier-than-thou to generally panicked.

"Shut up a second, Renegade! We _want_ them to turn and come at us, remember? It gives more of an opening to the RoughRiders! Now can it and split up, so we can bait them further back." She cut the transmission before he could object and decided to go ahead and do a small hop with her mech just to give her mind something else to do.

She was rewarded with the bright streak of light from air below her mech being cooked from a flurry of LRM's aimed right where her legs used to be. She landed roughly, then pivoted the blimp-with-ears portion of her mech back to the north and attempted to get a lock on something moving slowly enough.

 _A half a kilometer north…_

Hot firing the LRM's didn't pay off, and Kuri's targeting reticle kept snapping back and forth between the front-line mechs hopping around, so he couldn't get a lock on that _Catapult_ in time. He knew that was their leader, and his only weapon in range missed completely. He had been forced to turn the entire black battalion to deal with this rearward threat, also ordering a halt for his red battalion up north, which was just now beginning to engage the RoughRiders up north.

 _They're closing around us like a vise…I guess it's now or never._ He switched channels. "Gold actual, black actual."

"Go for gold?" His voice didn't sound too happy. He sounded like he had his own problems in the air for now. Or something shooting at him from below.

"Signal Wyverns one and two to join us at on highway K-5 at Lima-Lima-Juliet, One-Seven-One. He'll know where we are. We're surrounded and need their fire support. Let all our foxes in the sky know if they abandon us, they abandon the Dragon's glory."

"That's directly in the middle of the fight. You want to risk two _Overlords_ for your personal glory?" It almost sounded like his aerospace commander wanted it confirmed verbally for investigative purposes.

Kuri's mech came almost to a complete halt with that insubordination. "You dare question your commander in the middle of a battle?! You will follow orders or hope your aero crashes before you can slice open your own gut. Get everyone in here. Black actual out." He noticed ahead the Coyotes were jumping over and over while almost at a complete retreat to the east. They were trying to lead him away, to split him up further. _Not going to happen, Major._

He changed to his company commander channel. "Attention all battle rats. We have wyvern reinforcements coming in within five mikes. Give them a bigger landing zone than this. Black battalion, push south and push _hard._ Red battalion, regroup south and form the northern half of the ring."

A chorus of ayes responded from his company commanders. He was doubtful the RoughRiders would risk their own dropship support until it was too late. If he timed it right, he could create an opening for his reds to push north and isolate their artillery before they could train in on his _Overlords._ They each packed the firepower of an entire company of battlemechs, and for now they represented their only chance at escape if it came to that.

 _Well…I won't be going with them if it comes to that._

And he still had his final trump card to play. He flipped a cover of a button to his left, intended for one use only during this campaign. It sent the signal to reawaken the gun-cam virus buried deep within almost every unit aligned against him on this planet. It would start slowly as the virus needed time to get itself back in the proper files to do its job, and every mech had different computer systems. In time, he would be able to shoot properly, and everybody against him would not.

He lumbered his _Cyclops_ back up to a fast walk to join his comrades as they scattered the mercenaries to secure his final move. The stale heat of the cockpit rose, and his lips were already chapped. His voice became dry and cracked again and he only took another sip of water for the sake of his men hearing him correctly. He figured at this rate, he was dead within an hour anyway. Nothing else mattered at this point. Only glory for the Dragon.

Underground bunker

Mach 'Beh

A blip on Alvarez's wristcom indicated a private message she needed privacy to receive. It actually required that she be the only heat source equal to a human within twenty meters before the message would even play. She politely excused herself to a nearby bathroom reserved for top-level planetary leadership in their safe haven several kilometers below the surface of Suk II.

As she hit the button, the message displayed holographically, allowing the text to be read much more easily just in front of her face instead of microscopic lettering that wore out the eyes.

"From Mr. Stanley Cornwell. This gift is in appreciation of the work you did last summer with Cornwell's Corncobs over on Gimli. We had a great harvest and never had the chance to thank you properly. Please accept this gift from some of our interns who were studying the latest crop-harvesting techniques in a tropical climate. It will be sent to you by the end of the month. Take care!" The file also included some pictures of young university students holding oversized ears of corn, almost the size of a small child. Despite this agricultural marvel that was actually true, it was nothing more than a cover story for this entire campaign. One in a few dozen side-stories in this operation that still managed to connect itself with the whole of humanity by only a few degrees of separation, despite the well-meaning intentions of each one.

She frowned at the message. It meant the virus had been re-activated, which also meant militia units would lose gun cams during this fight as well. Secretly she hoped the bulk of the carnage would stay away from them as the Dracs and the mercs slugged it out. Not that her caring about the lives of a few men and women who didn't need to die in this way meant anything at this point. She was so far down the rabbit hole, having sacrificed the lives of tens of thousands for her own ambition, caring for a few hundred soldiers did little to ease the pain.

She had no need to delete the message, for it disappeared about ten seconds after she read it. Shaking her head vigorously, her curly black locks wrapping around her shoulders, she swept her hair back and splashed some water on her face. _Water of the treatment plants I had nearly completely destroyed across the planet. Water treated by people who's lives I had thrown away with a smile and a flick of a laser pen._

Her hands began to tremble as the gravity of what this had escalated to began to take hold. It felt like the planet itself had become heavier, dragging her arms down to the sink as she lost her strength and knelt to the ground.

 _Or was it something else that was making me weak? Had someone found out about all of this?_ _Has an assassin reached me down here, or was it while I was topside?_ She knew of multiple ways to kill a person that made it look like natural causes, or a random affliction common to this planet.For a few seconds, she felt like she couldn't move, like she had been taken by a blood sugar crash. She felt helpless, and if she ever wanted to cry, this was the only moment left in her life she probably would.

She did not. She simply knelt there as the guilt passed as a warm gust of wind passes through a desert canyon.

After a few moments, her strength began to return. _Maybe my conscience was trying for one last stand, or something._ She pulled herself up to the sink and began to dust herself off. Apparently the power of her own ambition and greed was far stronger than any true humanity she had left.

After a long look in the mirror, she selected one of the masks from her personal mental inventory and went with a smile that appeared refreshed and optimistic. Splashing her face one more time, she strutted back out into the room, well protected from all the chaos above the surface she had created.


	36. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

West edge of Kevilston

Emily's sensors began to ping like someone ringing an old doorbell over and over. The Coyotes had drawn a good portion of their main battalion due southeast, while the Renegades pulled a few lances of their own. _Damnit, our reputation's working against us right now. They see us as the main threat and want us dead, dead, dead. None of us are dead yet, but we've lost a couple of our 'mechs so far._

One of the _Firebees_ in Mother Hen's lance had been frozen up by a side shot to the knee while in the open and had to eject before crashing to the ground to be dogpiled by angry weapons from the 2nd Legion.

Nymph's new'ish _Mongoose_ also went down when a lucky AC 20 shot sent her spinning into the dirt with half a shoulder and an arm missing. She reported she was alive and would walk home, but wasn't able to get clear of the fighting safely. Emily hoped she made it out OK.

"Coyotes, you ready for another game of leapfrog?" The almost unanimous response of groaning and boos made her laugh. "Glad to hear it. Short jumps this time. Long sprints. We're going north. We can link up with the RoughRiders there. Clotheslance, you're up first. Give us some room."

"Roj, Dirk. Hey…Ah hell. Not againnnn. My gun cams are down!" Martin's voice sounded more like a whiny child who doesn't want to go to school than someone who just lost the ability to aim his weapons properly. "You still wanna go through with this, Dirk?"

"Wait one. Anyone else losing gun cams?" She paused for a moment, and both Romeo and Mowgli's _Fire Javelins_ reported losing them. Another moment, as the number of blips continued to increase on her forward sensors, and Nymph reported losing them as well. "OK, plan C. We're falling back into Kevilston. Take away their fire support advantage."

"You positive, boss lady? Most of us are set up for LRM's." Pearl's voice came over the line as she visibly bobbed the left arm of her _Trebuchet_ up and down, where half her LRM launchers were housed.

"Afraid so. We're running out of room and if we can't get locks, we're screwed anyw"—a different kind of blip followed by a series quick warning beeps she wasn't used to hearing in this cockpit. She looked at a display showing her own gun cams were going offline, and her crosshairs on her HUD were jerking back and forth in a really distracting manner. "Well, there goes my missiles. Let's get behind some buildings before we get overrun. Consider ourselves lucky we weren't busy shooting, everyone. Move out."

"Dirk, Clothesline. There's a light RoughRider lance that's surrounded just north of us. Think we can play chicken with 'em first?"

"How many of them?"

"Not sure exactly. Maybe two lances of the Legion. Minus one RoughRider contact."

"OK we'll all give 'em a scare, pick up any survivors, and run like hell. Leapfrog, _go_!

 _Firebase Yankee_

 _Alshayra Continent_

Corporal Wilson saw some huge changes on his datapad. He nearly spilled his coffee on himself as he got on his radio to the off-duty techs in his team.

As they gathered around the puddle of spilled coffee near the lonely _Jenner_ , they saw the virus had returned to the master folder for the gun cams. The four of them had run countless simulations to figure out how to deal with it when it migrated back, but the "antivenom" as it had been dubbed by their team, still needed some fine-tuning once they ran it alongside the virus.

After days of waiting, it became clear the virus would not return to the trap laid out for it in the gun cam folder until the command to reawaken was actually given. Now that it had, they looked at it like one would look at an angry insect trapped in a jar.

"What odds did you give that this would work, again?" Wilson looked at his youngest tech, a woman not even twenty yet, who grinned like she had just played a prank on her college dean.

"About two-to-one it's gonna work, Corporal. Now let me have that pad." Wilson handed it over and the program they had worked on for countless days was run.

Lines of code scrolled by so rapidly that nobody could read it, but eventually it came to a halt while several blinking dots of text allowed the program to think about its next move.

It clearly didn't seem to understand what to do next. The virus also seemed to be running whatever fail safes were put into it. Wilson wanted to know one thing and one thing only before they vaccinated their entire regiment against this. "Any idea of the program's origin?" he asked, growing slightly impatient in his own youth, not much older than her yet.

"Not yet. It wants to leave this 'mech's systems really badly. Our little cage we set up seems to be holding it, but it might rewrite itself to try something else if it fails enough times in a row. Everyone just shut up a minute, please." He stopped the massage and checked the connections on the cables just to give himself something to do.

"Damnit! It seems to know some of our protocols, at least. It's using command lines only RoughRiders tend to use. Might be an inside job or at least someone on-planet." Her first wrinkle of her life seemed to appear between her eyebrows as she furiously tapped away at the datapad. To some, it appeared some young adults were watching a protege playing some kind of video game to learn some of the tricks to get their score higher. Wilson wasn't interested. He just let her work for a while.

"Shit! OK, good news and bad news. Bad news is it's loose again. Good news is it can't do anything to the gun cams anymore. We can worry about it later. For now, it seems more like it just wants to live instead of doing its job. Amazing. I sort of…made a deal with it."

"A…deeeaaal?" Wilson sounded more than a bit nervous as the last word drew out.

"Its money or its life." The wiz-kid chuckled nervously and showed him the pad. It showed the _Jenner's_ gun cams were functioning normally again, and it displayed the place of origin.

 _Suk II Department of Technology_. _This is about as inside of a job as it gets, but it's not a RoughRider source._ The datapad felt like it weighed about as much as the _Jenner_ itself. He stared at it for a moment but shook his head and got on with their mission.

"Lee, get in the cockpit and confirm the cams are back online. If they are, go get Hardcase and tell him his mech's ready. Stewart, get the package ready to transmit to our whole regiment with an autorun protocol, and slap the CO's access code on it so it doesn't waste any time running. Antoinette, I really hope this virus actually is sentient or intelligent enough to want to keep its own life, or we're either out of a job or dead. Or both."

 _Northwest of Kevilston…_

Leutnant Jean LaPointe completed another jump and broke into a sprint immediately. Since he wasn't able to use his only gun on the move, he was only going to drive up his heat if he tried. He did, however, look to his right just in time to see his lancemate in the _Wasp_ jump into an area above the low hills he had just occupied.

An area where not seconds before, at least a half-dozen pilots from the 2nd Legion had their weapons trained. As the _Wasp_ sky lined itself, everyone who didn't already try to hit Jean found another target at just the right moment. Half of them didn't even wait for the weapons lock.

By the time he realized his pilot's mistake, the lasers were already cutting into her before he could even utter a word.

The Legion unloaded. Autocannon rounds landed into its shoulder, sending it off-course on its jumping arc. The _Wasp_ leaned backwards in midair with multiple laser scars across its entire upper body, making it look like it was originally put together like some sort of metal golem.

Then the missiles hit. Short and long-range warheads slammed into the upper half of the light 'mech so hard that what was left of the _Wasp_ did half a backflip in midair. The computers onboard either lost their connection to the jump jets or were destroyed entirely, ending the leap prematurely. It fell over twenty meters flat onto its back with a bone-shaking _thud_ , and didn't move.

Jean knew nobody could survive a barrage and a fall like that. He looked away, as his _Locust_ pilot was also caught in a crossfire almost simultaneously. Something knocked out the twenty-tonner at the knees, sending it skidding across the dirt in a cloud of brown. It also remained stationary. His comms went silent for a moment.

And then no less than an entire lance of 2nd Legion mechs fired a volley from their main guns just to make sure it was down. That much fire on a stationary _Locust_ meant pretty much nothing would remain intact.

Watching two of his people get unceremoniously executed within ten seconds of each other, 'mechs and all, made him numb to the whole situation. His limbs felt heavy and slow, and his _Otscout_ visibly slowed as well, as if the 'mech itself were having the same shocked reaction he was.

His lance had been almost completely removed from the fight with just one wrong move. Only Venom's _Valkyrie_ and his _Ottie_ remained, and it was too beaten-up to continue fighting, with no weapons remaining. He sent it back to Yankee along a very grateful lady in the cockpit. The 2nd Legion had fallen back to regroup, which wasn't according to plan at all. Now he could see the sky lit up with three suns instead of normally just one as two _Overlords_ were coming directly into the fight to give fire support.

An aerospace fighter blurred past his vision, moving too quickly for him or his sensors to tell if it was friend or foe. An almost instantaneous punch to his 'mech's rear knocked him sprawling forward with incredible kinetic power. His _Otscout_ stumbled, and Jean hit the jump jets just so he could get himself vertical again.

It was still too much of a push. He was still numb, and he wasn't ready for it. He landed, stumbling again and finally crashing on his front, skidding the last few meters in the dirt until his Inner Sphere jump jet record came to an end at one hundred forty-five consecutive jumps.

He was thrown against his harness, feeling a small pop as one of his ribs was broken from the force. He was breathless and clawed for air but felt no pain in the adrenaline dump he was experiencing. Lights flashed everywhere, but he ignored them, knowing his mech was beyond saving. Going from mind-numbing loss to a massive spike of energy made his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He fumbled for his connections and unfastened himself, falling on his hands and feet against the front of the cockpit. There he paused, his fight in this war nearly over.

He had pushed two of his people beyond what they were capable of. Pushed them beyond their piloting skills. _Pushed them too damn far,_ he thought. _I got them killed, and I'm next. I'm all that's left._

The blinders were on, and he felt alone vs. the entire 2nd Legion. He climbed out and was greeted by a _Jenner_ in the colors of the Legion of Vega. Its pod-like arms each aiming a pair of medium lasers right at him. He held up his hands and looked around, though the pressure on his ribs made him struggle to breathe.

Everywhere around him, a dust-covered scene kicked up by the landing _Overlords_ was further blurred by his lack of enough oxygen. RoughRider 'mechs were pulling back to the northwest, towards the capitol. The opening to the south had given them a massive advantage, but one by one everyone lost their ability to aim, and all momentum had ceased. Jean's lance had been isolated and removed from the fight, his _Otscout_ the final defender in this pocket of resistance.

Their artillery could get into position to pound those _Overlords_ , but they needed more time, and more real estate. The RoughRiders were running out of the first one, but might be able to buy enough of it with the second. "Stall for time" became the mantra he said over and over, and it continued in his head now even with almost forty tons of death staring him down.

The _Jenner_ didn't move, confident that they held the field. Jean took his neurohelmet off, and without a word, the Jenner fired a laser into the dirt to his left. A warning not to make any more sudden movements.

Sometimes violence was the most well-understood language of them all.

Jean made no further movements, but the pain in his ribs began to grow. The _Jenner_ pilot came over his speakers in English, despite the thick Japanese accent. "Pilot, head towards the dropships for interrogation." He turned and motioned with a wiggle of his lasers towards the _Overlords, several kilometers to the south._

 _They don't have the infantry to round me up._ This realization came to Jean as tried to figure out how far he could run before he coughed up blood. The massive amounts of dirt being kicked up by the dropships, even at this distance away, might make the _Jenner_ just give up a chase in the nearby ruins of a small factory. _He probably had better things to do anyway,_ he thought.

In his injured confusion, he had forgotten to grab the mini sapper kit all RoughRider pilots carry in their cockpit. Just enough to disable an ankle of a 'mech. Just out of reach.

After a half-second thought, Jean sat down on the back of his _Otscout._ "You'll just have to kill me, Drac." he said without much emotion. He doubted the pilot even heard him with all this noise from the dropships. _I can't survive the run, and hell I might not even survive the march to their ships anyway. My mistake got two of my people killed, so I suppose it's time I pay the price for it._

The _Jenner_ pilot seemed dumbfounded. He didn't know what to do in this scenario. _Welp, at least I'm buying time while he asks his commander what to do._ Jean stayed motionless, grateful for the rest. The armor beneath him was cooling rapidly but was still warm to the touch from all the heat radiating beneath it. The gaping hole of what appeared to be a heavy autocannon round from the aerospace fighter left a jagged crater next to him, filling the entire center of the _Otscout._ Hot smoke continued to bellow from that area, blown downwind by the dust storm.

 _A gyro hit._ _No wonder I couldn't keep it vertical._ _It took my 'mech literally collapsing under me to end the record._

He wasn't sure if he should hate himself more for thinking about the record instead of his people. He wasn't really sure why his mind was even wandering at this point, having barely escaped death but getting closer to it if he didn't get medical attention, while staring down the barrels of four lasers all large enough to flash-fry him whole.

Then the _Jenner_ turned, and ran. Fast. Small tremors shook Jean's whole body, making his ribs hurt a little more, as the 'mech rapidly left the scene. Jean guessed he was standing still too long and the natural instincts of a light 'mech pilot to simply keep moving were likely making him itchy as it was.

Then before much longer, maybe less than thirty seconds, two 'mechs even smaller than the _Jenner_ came towards him from the southeast. From Kevilston. _Mercenaries?_ He wondered while still sitting on his broken war machine. Two _Fire Javelins_ ran his way, one raising his 'mech's arm in a wave of "hello!"

They had Coyote camouflage.

"Well helloooo…" a rather young-sounding pilot came over his loudspeakers. "We have to go. Like right now. Our gun cams are down, but he didn't know that. Pick a _Jav_ and get aboard." Even though he said that, the other pilot had already opened his hatch and dropped the rope ladder down for him, making the choice obvious. "We're falling back into Kevilston. You can find a doc there."

 _I guess we're even now, Major._

He wasn't sure if his ribs could take the ride in a jump seat. Or even worse, hanging for his life while clamped for dear life to the back of a command couch. But he got off his old horse and jogged to the ladder anyway. Human instincts for survival trumped any existential thoughts at this point, and he climbed up and crawled behind the pilot, who was even sweatier than he was at this point.

"Just hang on. I'm Mowgli. Coyotes."

"Rapier, RoughRiders."

"We saw your landing. Looked like it hurt. All set?"

He replied "almost," ignoring the pain in his ribs and did the "Bronco Brace," as the RoughRiders called it. A half-squat, legs clamped around the couch and elbows firm against the back of the seat, butt in the air slightly. All their cockpits even had hand straps they custom-sewed into the seats, but this _Jav_ didn't have any, so he obliged to do it the old-fashioned way.

Hanging on for dear life.

"Ready!"

"And we're off." One thing the civilian simulators never really seemed to include was the sheer amount of bucking every pilot dealt with as the 'mech bounced up and down in a rapid run. Light 'mech pilots needed a special kind of constitution to handle that. Times like this he was grateful he wasn't used to the slower, lumbering gait of his father's _Battlemaster._

A muscle group that was unusually strong in most smaller MechWarrior pilots were the neck muscles in back that dealt with the up-down motions, sometimes more than one hundred per minute, while wearing the helmet and looking around.

All he could do was hang on and let the pilot do his job while they ran for their lives. PPC fire from the nearest _Overlord_ several kilometers away crystalized the dirt that had previously been underneath the dropship, now around the feet of the two _Fire Javs_. Mowgli ignored it, keeping focused on leaning them left and right while shaking the two of them like beans in a can.

"New contacts, bearing two-eight-zero. Another company, probably more. The _Jenner's_ coming back, too," Mowgli reported, but Jean couldn't hear the reply in his neurohelmet or the steady rhythm of the 'mech's movements.

Time seemed to accelerate for Jean, focused on one thing, hanging on. But eventually the 'mech did slow and when he looked over Mowgli's shoulder, he saw the streets of Kevilston had reached out to swallow them whole, providing temporary safety behind the buildings.


	37. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

Southeast of Mach 'Beh

L.C. LaPointe listened in as Venom gave the grim report—his son's lance was down, and half of them were "out." He couldn't confirm if his son was among those dead, and unfortunately he didn't have time to find out. The massive, deadly chariots for the 2nd Legion had landed, creating a shroud of dust and dirt all around the landing zone. _Circling the wagons,_ he thought as a few more LRM's screeched by his right side. He answered with a PPC shot form his arm that went nowhere in particular, but still managed to graze a _Jagermech_ deep within their formation. Both sides had given each other more than an arm's distance. The _Overlords_ were the biggest and last chip on the table, and this Oka Kuri fellow was going all in with it.

Once LaPointe's side started losing their gun cams, he ordered everyone back to beyond max range of most 'mechs until the Legion decided to push forward. _What was Kuri's greatest asset at the moment wasn't being used to its full potential, which probably meant they were trying to get the hell out of here._

For now, the combined air cover plus the fire support from the _Overlords_ themselves might give them the time they need to evac the planet completely. Their commander seemed to be weighing his options, because both sides were trading sniping shots, with the 2nd Legion having far more success in that regard, being able to actually aim their weapons properly. There wasn't much physical cover on either side, so LaPointe's people were busy rotating in and out, but he knew that was just borrowed time.

The 2nd Legion never made it to the capitol. The RoughRiders blunted the advance, with the mercenaries on the other side keeping them flanked at all times. Now all that was left was the final brawl, and Kuri wanted to make it as costly as possible. He knew the gig was up.

RoughRider artillery and dropships, mostly _Union_ class were less than eight minutes out, and LaPointe had sent all his airborne assets as well as anti-air to cover their arrival. It put more pressure on the main bulk of his force, but they were holding. Though, word came back that Rapier had been knocked out by an aerospace fighter, and he felt a pang of guilt for what felt like sacrificing his son for the sake of the mission. Most of the Draconis fighters overhead were also _Rapiers,_ which only added to the wound.

 _If my son is among the dead, there will be no negotiating with this…Kuri._

"Message from Firebase Yankee, Whisper." Sphinx over the command channel. "Said they fixed the gun cams. Will relay with their package."

His HUD showed the translucent image of Corporal Wilson's face, both smiling and nervous at the same time. Since he wasn't aiming at anything in particular right now, it was easier to read his facial expressions. "Chief, we found a way to convince the virus to give up the gun cams, but you'll still have it running loose in your 'mechs. Tests showed it was benign, so we can find it again after the fight. We've sent packages to every 'mech on-planet to auto-download and run. Your 'mechs _might…_ need a reboot after this. Good luck, sir."

The message winked out, and a small borderless window on the right side of his HUD started running lines of text at an incredible rate.

He backpedaled a little further, keying in his entire regiment. "All RoughRiders, this is Whisper. We have good news. What you're probably seeing on your HUD is a program that should get our crosshairs working again. Everyone needs to do a quick shutdown and restart of their 'mechs, so get as much distance as you can and organize that by lance. Our cavalry is about eight mikes out. Hold the line. This is almost over.

"On my signal, everyone alpha strike their entire line as close to the red line as you can get with anything that will reach them. Then rotate restarts by lance. Watch the skies, they'll be diving on us when they figure out what we're doing."

He put his 'mech's arms up straight-out towards the 2nd Legion. Only his PPC in his right arm was going to hit anything at this range, but he went for maximum theatrics for this little maneuver.

"In three…"

He gave them all plenty of time to get lined up for this shot. He needed everyone for it.

"Two…"

More 'mechs to his left and right were copying his idea. Blind fire was something they had trained for in the past, and some of them still remembered how.

"One…"

Several 2nd Legion 'mechs seemed to be looking for any cover they could find, though both sides had almost none to work with.

"Fire!" From all across his field of vision, the sky lit up with colors of blue and bright yellow as PPC's and missiles discharged from his 'mech and dozens of others. LRM's arced in various curves towards the south. Most lasers were out of range to do anything other than scribble on the paint of the Draconis 'mechs, but many were fired anyway.

A young couple brave enough to set up a picnic spot just outside of Kevilston on a small knoll recorded this, and commented later it was the most horrifyingly beautiful sight they had ever seen. More than an entire battalion simultaneously unloading in _any_ direction, let alone towards other 'mechs had a way of drawing the eye in.

Seconds later, contrails arrived at the entire 2nd Legion line, erupting in tiny fireballs from this far away. Nothing seemed to take any significant damage, but it certainly got a lot of them on the other side of the fight moving around like lightning had just struck a few places near them.

"Begin restarting by lance! Hurry it up before their air support gets here. Whisper out."

"Whisper, this is Leather. Two-Step and I will restart first."

"Copy Leather. Tango." He went for another PPC shot at the Draconis line, and missed again. His heat, and the heat of over five-dozen 'mechs near him were all spiking hard. The extra energy radiating from all of them in that area would have been enough to keep a small city warmed up for an hour or two. If the planet wasn't typically a swampy mess most days.

To his right, multiple 'mechs had slumped or went completely still while frantically restarting.

After a tense moment, several of them reported their crosshairs had returned. LaPointe smiled as the sweat rolled through the creases in his face. _First bit of good news I've heard all afternoon._

Above him, aerospace fighters screamed overhead like vultures sensing their meal was ready. All around him, multiple 'mechs still in their startup sequence were simply shoved over by focused ballistic fire and missiles of all shapes and sizes, into holes and scars created by laser fire. _The same kinds of guns that took Jean out of the fight._

He watched helplessly as two 2nd Legion _Rapiers_ dove in with their AC-20's at an _Awesome_ in his main battle line to his right, still shut down. As they fired, LaPointe visibly flinched, thinking the shells were meant for him. The added velocity from the fighters themselves gave some extra punching power to the stationary assault, taking both rounds directly to the chest, sending it crashing backwards with a crater vomiting smoke through its spine.

 _80 tons of firepower deleted just like that. Is that how Jean got taken out?_

As it fell, it revealed a _Blackjack_ that had lost its left arm and was just powering back up. Smoke poured from the opening where its shoulder was, but the 'mech stayed upright, moving its remaining arm in a split-second test of its own targeting systems coming back online.

"We're up and running, Whisper! Crosshairs are online. You and Pharaoh. We'll cover you."

"All RoughRiders, cover the skies! The 2nd legion is out of range. Focus on those fighters if you can reach them!" With that, he flipped the cover on his emergency shutdown switch and pressed it. His 'mech went slightly darker, most lights going dim or shutting off entirely. His cockpit stayed still. Everything went slightly muffled. Even his external microphones were customized to be off during shutdowns, due to the massive amounts of comms chatter he normally had to deal with.

He gave himself about two and a half seconds of time to mentally reset himself. He looked at the horizon and saw the 2nd Legion had begun advancing northward once more. At least some of them were. He squinted and saw more dust was being kicked up from the dropships up ahead. Like they were about to take off again.

"Whisper, Sphinx. Getting reports they might be trying to evac from where they're at. If I were this guy, I'd be leaving, too. Our own dropships should be here about the time our arty gets here."

As he began the sequence for a hot start, he wondered if that wasn't a ploy to get them to overcommit before the biggest guns arrived. "Roger, Sphinx. If they start boarding, I _might_ charge us. Not yet, though." Too many lives at stake and he needed everyone able to shoot, first.

"Leather reporting, guns back online. Wooooohoooooo!" His enthusiasm even in a firefight was both refreshing and slightly annoying at the same time, but LaPointe was grateful right now.

While some extreme-range fire went back to suppressing the 2nd legion, almost everyone put their weapons skyward and created a show of laser light, autocannon shells, and a few well-intentioned missiles that tore up a few _Rapiers_ and sent most of the Draconis air cover back up into high altitude.

A piece of a tail fin landed in the ground front of LaPointe's _Battlemaster_ like a meteorite, piercing the ground and crumpling on itself into a hot, metallic mushroom that looked like it had suddenly sprouted from beneath the surface.

Everyone's voices seemed to go from frustrated, tired, or angry to downright relieved or just plain ready to get back in the fight. He could see 'mechs doing little movements with their weapons, like dozens of men and women who were suddenly had their hand-eye coordination return, flexing their hands.

And curling them into angry fists, primed for payback.

He only needed a few more seconds and almost everyone would be back on their feet that didn't get knocked out in the air raid. He needed about six more minutes for the cavalry to get here and he could end this fight entirely.

"Are they boarding?" A random pilot's voice came over command frequencies by accident.

Someone else answered in a drawl. "Hey, it looks like the 'mech doors are opening up on them dropships!"

LaPointe turned on what little zoom was available on his HUD, and moved it over the nearest _Overlord._ One light 'mech was already running up the ramp and inside. _Son of a bitch!_

"All RoughRiders, advance by bounds!" LaPointe shouted. "Go for the legs of the biggest 'mech you can hit if you aren't under fire yourself. _Nobody_ jump unless you're under fire from the dropships! Give the air to people who need to move fast." A natural instinct of many MechWarrior pilots was to hit the jump jets to add more dimensions to a bad guy's targeting, and their formation was rather crowded for everyone to be doing that at the moment.

LaPointe lumbered his own 'mech forward once Leather had given the go for his company to move. It was generally better to let someone else handle the driver's seat of moving a dozen giant robotic death machines while giving cover fire to each other _and_ not crashing into each other, while one was busy in the driver's seat on a regimental scale.

Switching to a rear camera, he panned behind him quickly and saw five of his 'mechs went down during that restart sequence. Two _Vindicators_ , an _Awesome,_ a _Jagermech_ , and a _Griffin_ , along with more than a few missing limbs from other 'mechs ahead of him. The glint of so many pieces of armor on the ground looked like small tombstones in the Inner Sphere's most unorganized graveyard.

Close to ten percent of his starting 'mechs, but that little move had got the rest of them back in fighting order.

The RoughRiders were down to just a battalion of decently-functioning 'mechs on the field, with approximately a battalion and a half remaining on the 2nd legion side. LaPointe hoped his merc friends down south would be able to rejoin as well. Sphinx had been on top of transmitting the package to both groups, and estimated they would be ready themselves within another minute or two, and be back in the fight in three.

 _Still gonna take way too long for the big guns to get here,_ he thought. _We might have to do this without them._

On Leather's command, his company halted to give some cover fire while other companies advanced. A small autocannon shell bounced off his curved cockpit with a loud _ping_ , and he locked up a 2nd Legion _Blackjack_ and responded with his own PPC. The shot hit the left arm under the shoulder, and no armor was left to guard it. The whole limb collapsed out of its socket, key joints in the structure now twisted and melted away.

The much smaller 'mech backpedaled to get behind his larger brethren, also as battle-scarred as he was now. A tiny subconscious part of his brain told him there were two _Blackjacks_ on the field with almost identical damage, one on each side. The odds of that ever happening were staggeringly low.

Both sides were starting to get into what the RoughRiders called the "fun zone." Medium range. The kind of range where almost every weapon system on any battlemech was viable. Despite the rising heat on the 'mechs on both sides, the bloodlust rose even faster. Shorter-ranged lasers in a massive number and larger-bored autocannon began opening up, causing more and larger explosions on both sides.

Short-ranged missiles, mostly fully-loaded on both sides, began replacing the nearly-or-already empty long-range launchers. Typically fatter and with bigger warheads, they added to the carnage that began increasing exponentially. Simple pockmarks, scars, or parts of a missing limb became huge craters, amputations of entire limbs, or 'mechs entirely knocked down or out.

Several SRM's wound up screaming into LaPointe's own _Battlemaster_ , enough of them to rock back his forward walk into a rearward balancing act. He leaned his 'mech into the small barrage, bending slightly at the knees in case anything else arrived behind it. Nothing did. His company was on the move again, always forward. There wasn't much to be done for maneuvers with numbers of 'mechs on this large of a scale in open terrain. Simply providing enough cover fire while advancing until the other line broke was the order of the day for both sides.

Except if they went any farther, those _Overlords_ would begin chewing LaPointe's people apart. They had to wait for backup from the south. "All RoughRiders, dig in here. Wait for our support to the south. Anyone with any super-long reach, put your crosshairs on those 'mech bay doors." Nobody was in range of it, but he wanted them thinking that kind of thing when they got closer. A few red laser flashes went underneath his HUD and his computer reported his left shoulder had almost no armor left.

"I got you, Whisper." Leather's voice again. "Back up and let us take over a minute." His _Marauder_ walked forward, almost directly in front to shield LaPointe, and also to encourage him to back up a bit.

He caught a glimpse of Leather's left side, and it was almost entirely gone. The arm wasn't there, nor was any armor on his small shoulder, and the autocannon nestled up there had a bend to it that didn't seem natural. A barrel that was visibly red-hot. He was down to one main weapon left, with less overall armor than LaPointe had and was still using himself as a shield for his CO.

"Whisper, this is Dirk with the Coyotes. We got your package and are restarting all our mechs. ETA thirty seconds for us, two minutes for the Renegades. They're a little further out."

The relief washed over him, but he kept his voice firm. "Roger Dirk. They're boarding the dropships. Might be evaccing. Our guns are online and we're advancing, but we're outgunned almost two-to-one over here. Our big guns aren't gonna make it in time."

"We could just let them leave…" Her voice sounded suggestive.

"Yes and no. Our garrison contract says we shoot them until they're well above the range of our guns. Not an option, Dirk."

"Fair enough. We're on the way. We'll go for the other _Overlord_ when we get there. Oh, and Rapier's alive, and in Kevilston. Dirk out."

LaPointe's closed his eyes for a second and laughed. _You lucky bastard,_ immediately realizing the irony of calling his own son that. He laughed again.

He switched back to regimental comms. " _RoughRiders_! The next five minutes will be the minutes you will remember the most for the rest of your lives. Make them the ones you don't have to embellish on to your friends and family. Make them _real!_ Make them the best damn minutes of your life! Start circling around to the east. Don't let anyone retreat into Kevilston. Keep closing in."

His voice dropped an octave. _"Death_ awaits us all. Let's go say hi." With that, his comms erupted in ragged cheers and shouts. One of his _Centurions_ with "the one who knocks" emblazoned on his arm-mounted autocannon let the first shot of the charge ring out, sending the round into a 2nd Legion _Catapult_ 's ear, severing it clean off the mount with a wrathful explosion.

"Forward!"


	38. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

South of the 2nd Legion landing zone

Emily pushed her _Catapult_ up to a running speed while zig-zagging in her own lane of movement while attempting to keep up with the full-on charge being done by anyone against the 2nd Legion at the moment. She signaled everyone to move in at the fastest speed they could do pull off doing rapid jumps at an angle, torwards the newly rebuilt battle line surrounding the two _Overlords._

Zig-zagging at this speed felt almost pointless, at the rate she was moving, but she did it anyway out of more habit more than anything.

Ahead and to her right, one of the legs of Mowgli's _Fire Javelin_ was suddenly amputated at the hip in a pair of explosions, sending the limb sliding along the ground perpendicular to the direction it _was_ going. He fell into the dirt with a hard crash, skidding forward more than a few meters.

A second later, two _Rapier_ aerospace fighters screamed over the top of her, their glowing-hot AC-20 barrels each leaving a streak in her vision through her thermal optics.

"Mowgli, you okay?"

No answer. She lost sight of him as she passed, the loping stride of her _Cat_ much more familiar to her now, despite the still-present dent in her left "ear."

Hoping he was alright but not having time to check it out, she did a quick check-up on the rest of her group. "Anyone else hurting from those fighters?" She asked, her voice starting to get ragged from the entire day's activities. Her hands felt like they were starting to shake from her blood sugar being too low. She hadn't eaten all day, and it was really catching up to her.

"Took some laser fire, but I think only Mowgli took their big guns. No response yet." Mother Hen didn't sound all that confident he was going to respond anytime soon. Either way, her attention was diverted rather quickly after that. "Coyotes, see that _Hunchback_ , marked as beta? Light it up with LRM's!"

Emily answered in kind by slowing down slightly, enough for her crosshairs to float over the medium 'mech to get a lock, and she let loose with one of her last remaining vollies. A barrage of laser fire from several other 'mechs in the Draconis line were speared towards Ifrit and knocked both of his forearms off. He kept advancing, taking to the air as a small wave of missiles either struck him in the legs or missed completely.

In what seemed like a recreation of the aerial dance of the _Trebuchet_ Emily had struck at, he eased up on his jump jets to regain stability in the air, putting as much thrust as he could on the downward portion of his arc. The legs of the _Dervish_ went dangerously far apart, forward and backward, like he was about to do the splits on landing.

Before he could recover, several sizes of autocannon shells hit him square in the chest, simply shoving him backwards to the ground, as if the elaborate dance he had just pulled off was meaningless.

Meanwhile, the contrails from the missile barrage the Coyotes had just launched landed square on the backpedaling _Hunchback,_ staggering him backwards until the pilot could withstand no more. Several small explosions were up around the boxy cockpit and suddenly, mid-barrage, it seemed like the pilot just gave up and the 'mech was shoved onto its back similarly to her _Dervish_ just a second before.

"Nice shooting!" Emily hooted. "Ifrit, status?"

"I'll be up in a minute, Major. Mi culo está en llamas…" She checked her readout of friendly 'mechs and it showed there was a small electrical fire just behind his armor in his center torso. Then nothing, as the fire control systems must have taken care of it. _Or at least where there used to be armor,_ she thought. _Not exactly his ass on fire, but close enough._

"Next target! Marked Charlie. _Panther._ He's limping. Lock on, fire in five seconds." Mother Hen was directing all the outbound LRM traffic while Emily was directing general 'mech traffic. Everyone else was dead quiet for now.

Half a dozen people shouted "lock" in various forms of enthusiasm or fear, depending on how much fire they were receiving at the time. Romeo sounded the most nervous at this point, the last of the brothers still on his feet.

"Fire!" Emily was a half-step late but fired off her own half-volley at the stricken _Panther._ It was more than enough with the rest of the Coyotes, and its entire top half simply vanished as what was left of the belly and legs fell to the ground, the centerpiece of an unrecognizable pile of itself in the dancing grass.

A pile that was unceremoniously stepped all over as his comrades continued moving in and out of the front line.

"Dirk, Clothesline. They're boarding the dropships. I count a half-dozen lights so far on the near one."

"Copy." She switched to company comms again. "Coyotes, they're trying to bail out. I know we're beat to hell but we have to keep the pressure on. Everyone save one LRM salvo so we can use it on one of the _Overlords._ Do _not_ go dry. Repeat, do _not_ go dry on missiles yet."

"That leaves most of us with two or three vollies left, Dirk." Mother Hen seemed concerned and a little pissed off that she was taking away one of the last shots available to her.

"Coyote actual, Renegade actual." _The most annoying voice on this planet couldn't have been more welcome at a time like this_ , Emily thought.

"You guys in range, Renegade? We're getting our asses kicked pretty hard and we're almost dry on ammo. Enemy 'mechs are attempting to board their dropships." She juked her 'mech to the right out of habit more than anything, and was rewarded when a few light autocannon shots bounced off her cockpit where dead-center used to be. They ricocheted into the closed missile door on her left ear, bouncing into the sky to places unknown like so many other unexploded rounds in this battle.

"Almost. We're coming up on your left flank in about twenty seconds."

"Roger, we have to back up a bit. We've been trading coordinated vollies back and forth, watch out for that. Dirk out."

"Renegade act—" she cut him off before he could do his pretentious signoff.

A _Cyclops_ caught her attention as she throttled back up to full speed while pivoting. A stray missile caught her in her pivot leg, but it wasn't enough to push the sixty-five-tonner over or disrupt her balance this time.

"You two think that _Cyclops_ is their commander?" Emily asked on her command channel.

"Probably," replied Mother Hen.

"It's a good 'mech to be leading a regiment from," came Clothesline's grunting voice as he continued his own juking and jiving.

"I don't think we have enough ammo left without our final volley to breach it," came Mother Hen, sounding skeptical. "Damn thing's huge."

Emily changed back to the joint channel for the Coyotes and Renegades. "All Coyotes, fall back two hundred meters. The Renegades are almost here. Save that last volley for something good. We think their commander's in that _Cyclops._ Don't fire on it early. It'll spook him." She said it more for the Renegades, who weren't doing the same target coordination they were. She throttled directly backward while pivoting to face the Draconis line once more.

A PPC shot punished her for being such an easy target, melting two of the heat sinks in her left torso. An alarm blared showing the damage, and she slapped a button to shut it up. A few arcs of electricity crawled around the edge of her cockpit and then faded away.

Several of the nearest _Overlord's_ gun batteries were turning to fire on the Renegade line coming up on Emily's left flank, but one PPC battery was still trained on the Coyotes. Romeo's _Fire Javelin_ was the next to fall, getting struck in mid-stride one after another right in the chest while attempting to dodge a small LRM volley. He crashed to the ground like a puppet no longer held by its strings.

"Ow. Shit. Helluva gunner on that dropship, Major." One of the few pilots to go down that actually didn't get knocked out or was presumed dead, Romeo's normally chivalrous tone was just plain worn out.

"Dirk, Clothesline. Another lance of little guys boarded. It'll take a few more minutes but we can't stop them all from getting out of here unless we come up with something different."

 _Shit. This isn't what we're good at._ She hated being forced into this situation in the first place, hated LaPointe for talking her into it, hated herself for agreeing to it.

Mr. annoying voice cut in. "Renegades, move in and flank left. They're all running hot. Focus on this target." Her targeting system wasn't tied in with his 'mech's commands, so she could only presume he was giving his people something to shoot. Within seconds, the two lances of Renegades opened up with mostly small and medium bore autocannons, their specialty.

Their target apparently was a lightly-armored sixty-ton _Quickdraw_. Emily couldn't tell if it fell from the massive amount of fire suddenly aimed at it or if was already battle-damaged to hell and back, but it jerked backwards repeatedly and fell within another instant nonetheless. She forced a quick breath of relief and shook a kink out of her neck while she had the time.

Sweat trickled underneath the gap in her cooling vest while she adjusted, creating a cold, clammy sensation that ran down her whole spine.

"Coyotes, if you see a 'mech standing after the Renegades light it up, follow up and make sure it goes down. There's nothing left but big guys on the field. They might need us to finish it off. But _save that last volley!_ " She continued backwards for a few dozen meters, unable to continue the assault in her 'mech's current condition.

As the real estate between all three forces to the south of the _Overlords_ was cooked by stray shots, the amount of weapon fire began to decrease slightly. 'mechs on all sides were pushed to their heat limits, and everyone had fewer 'mechs in total. Some pilots opened up occasionally with a bigger burst, but it meant a longer pause in between their shots.

She was far back enough that most medium-range weapons were too far out from her, so she was able to take a better stock of how the fight was going. She quickly brought up a zoomed-in image of one of the ramps leading into the nearest _Overlord_. A _Phoenix Hawk_ belonging to the 2nd legion was just clearing the doorway and getting inside. Its right shoulder had been cratered, the arm hanging limp by a few unlucky myomer strands left to hold the burden.

What was left of the red, gray, and white paint job on the _Hawk_ looked more like a splotchy skin disorder at this point. Their insignia of a curled-up rat with a spiny back, holding a sword and a mask and something else Emily didn't recognize was burned away from this 'mech as it left her field of vision, running inside the dropship _._

A quick head count of the horizon showed at least a dozen 'mechs, either the size of hers or larger, still holding the area around the south of the dropships. They were beginning to tighten their own circle for when their own time came to board.

The Coyotes had pulled back slightly, giving the Renegades more room to spread out.

"Dirk, Whisper here. The cavalry's here in two minutes. Can you hold out?"

"Unsure. We're beaten to hell over here. The Renegades are giving us some room, but we all have one volley left of our LRM's we're saving."

A brief pause. "New plan. We'll shift and come for your _Overlord._ We need to knock out two of its legs on the same side and it'll go over. We can't waste ammo on the armor plate. You're going to have to circle around to the east to get a clean shot at the other leg after we hit one."

She spat salty sweat. It sizzled on her cockpit's floor. "Roger. We'll move now." Switching back to her joint comms, she shouted, "new plan, everybody! We're all going for the nearest _Overlord._ The RoughRiders, too! Renegades, we need you to break off and join us moving east so we can get a good shot at the legs from there."

"Jesus Christ, Dirk. We just committed here!"

"I know, but they can't pursue us. Stay flexible, guys, let's go!"

"Renegades, move southeast in pairs. Cover each other and get out of range."

With that, she turned her 'mech to the east again and throttled to top speed as fast as her 'mech would let her. During that exchange, she hadn't even noticed Clothesline's _Wolverine_ laying on the ground, crumpled and burning.

But she saw it now.

"Martin!"

No response.

She ran past his downed 'mech but was able to get a quick glimpse of him climbing out of the cockpit. "Clothesline's moving, but his _Wolvie's down._ "

They barely had more than a functioning lance worth of firepower at this point. Nymph's _Mongoose_ and one of their _Firebees were_ all that remained of the entire company's worth of light 'mechs they started with less than six months ago.

To her right, Ifrit was back on his feet and running with them despite being down to his shoulder-mounted LRM-10, though she doubted he had much left to offer in ammo. Still, he was with them.

"We'll have this over with soon, guys. Hang in there." Emily didn't have much else to offer except encouragement from her own _Cat_ with its single volley of LRM's left.

Under the shadow of the nearest _Overlord,_ several of the larger 'mechs turned north to deal with the RoughRiders suddenly coming into their range. Gun batteries swiveled their direction as well, and Emily took the moment of peace to mark one of the six legs of the gigantic dropship. The afternoon sun shone on the armor plate sticking out to the side of them, giving it a bright yellow hue which cast a deep shadow on the leg itself, shielded behind it.

It was as clean of a shot as they were ever going to get.

"This is a good spot. Coyotes, hold and cover the Renegades. Get that last volley ready for this leg, she said over joint comms. Fire on my mark. _Nobody_ fire early!" Then, "Whisper, Dirk. We're in position. Fire when ready."

LaPointe didn't respond directly, however the sight of almost a dozen 'mechs advanced to the _Overlord_ opened up on the leg next to her target, closer to them. The armor stopped a lot of the shots, but several lasers and autocannon rounds got around or underneath it, sending shards of metal and streams of lubricant flying all around the stricken vessel.

The gunners aboard the ship fired frantically, as quickly as they could, realizing now their lives were in serious danger, but the sudden barrage disrupted their aim, sending waves of PPC fire into the dirt of the RoughRider line.

"Now!" Emily shouted. She brought her crosshairs over the untouched leg she had marked, and got a tone within seconds. She thumbed the trigger one last time, feeling the now-familiar rocking sensation as the _Cat_ fired the last missiles it had.

Along both sides of her cockpit, the very last of the Coyote missiles, and multiple Renegade lasers and cannon shells whizzed by her. "Move, move!" she hollered, pivoting and throttling her _Cat_ back up to a jog.

The missiles had a good shot. Most of them landed into the side knee-joint of the 'mech-sized leg holding a huge portion of the _Overlord's_ weight. It attempted to compensate for the loss of balance, but RoughRider ordinance was still tearing apart the other leg on that side, despite losing several of their bigger 'mechs to the gunners of both dropships for the assault.

With a deep, soul-piercing groan, the massive dropship began to lean to the east. Suddenly, the engines fired as it attempted an emergency takeoff before it fell.

The RoughRiders didn't stop there. Nor did the Renegades. Both groups started in on another leg with everything they had left as the first two began to fully fail. Myomer muscles and actuators, both as thick as a human being began snapping with loud _cracks_ , whipping back into the dropship's hull like an octopus trying to scratch an itch. Metal flew in every direction, the armor plates near them absorbing shrapnel from the wrong side it was intended for.

From just over the horizon, RoughRider dropships and aerospace began to fill parts of the sky as multiple _Unions_ opened fire on the stricken vessel. The ship, having retracted its ramps for boarding 'mechs and closed the doors, attempted to lift off in a hurry.

Then one of the massive drive flares underneath the _Overlord_ changed shape and color, turning into the bloom of an explosion underneath. A chain reaction began as artillery rounds, also the size of human beings, landed all along the lower portion of the dropship.

The drives cut out, and the ship continued to lean, until it fell to the ground in a rolling barrage of thunderclaps. The engines died as at least a hundred people and at least twenty of the lighter 'mechs were tossed around inside. Emily's own _Catapult_ lost her balance against the tremors and eventually fell backwards, sending her back into her seat with a bracken view of the sky shrouded by tons of dust and dirt being kicked up by the fallen vessel.

As she got her bearings from being suddenly relocated several meters from where she just was, a voice she heard before but didn't recognize came over a public channel.

"Attention Suk II Planetary defenders. This is Sho-sho Oka Kuri, Commander of the 2nd Legion of Vega, and supporting forces." He sounded more tired than any human being Emily had ever heard in her life. Almost as tired as she felt.

"I wish to discuss terms of surrender."


	39. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Southeast of Mach 'Beh

Emily had been a part of surrender negotiations before, but both times they were over a secured channel. She'd never done this in person. The pleasant breeze of the cooling evening gave everyone goosebumps, having just crawled out of a hot cockpit but still feeling the stimulating chill of cooling vest, still being worn by most people currently at this meeting.

This "meeting" was a small circle of mechs from the leaders of the Renegades, Coyotes, Roughriders, and the 2nd Legion of Vega they all had been fighting up until now.

Everyone was looking north as the hover car for Jonah Orlianne, commander of the planetary militia, was just pulling up. He courteously stopped the vehicle far enough away so nobody would get covered in dust to add to their layers of sweat and grime, and jogged to the group. While he did, it give Emily a moment to glance back at what was left of her company.

The Coyotes had a lance of half-functioning medium mechs. All their lights were in various stages of down or out, and were salvageable, but some were a total loss, like Nymph's _Mongoose_ and Romeo's _Fire Javelin._ Romeo had a hairline fracture in his left forearm. Clothesline had bit his tongue badly when his _Wolverine_ was knocked down and didn't enjoy talking much right now. Every female pilot under her command had at least light bruising in the chest from various impacts, and several pilots of both genders had cracked ribs.

Bullhorn lucked out on that one this time, but he was once again dispossessed until the Coyotes found new rides. Emily was grateful the money the original four of them had pooled together was stashed to cover the eventual loss of all of the 'mechs they had hired.

Emily's _Catapult_ was about as worse for wear as the rest of the mechs on the field, except that aside from some secondary components and some heat sinks, all her systems were functioning. She probably had a half a ton of armor somewhere around her legs and some on the back of the blimpy torso, but that was about it. Everything else was covered in various forms of burn scars and pockmarks that made her entire chassis look like it had become some kind of metallic mountain range.

 _Now all I need is a coolant river to flow through it and the picture is complete,_ she thought, smiling. Pearl had caught the gesture and winked quietly. She winked back. The two of them represented the Coyotes, and Lapointe and Dusselhoff, Whisper and Sphinx, represented the Roughriders, along with the least-grimey of them, a male she didn't recognize that was representing their aerospace assets.

Next to Emily and Pearl was Romero and his XO, who opted to remain nameless.

Orlianne arrived with the group and nodded his head in salute to everyone he recognized, then addressed everyone. "I'm glad we could find an end to this war without _everyone_ going home in a coffin." He extended his hand to a solemn-looking Oka Kuri, who was more than happy to get off this planet as soon as possible. "I represent the government in this pow-wow, so direct any questions regarding that to me."

Kuri accepted and began. "Under the Ares Conventions of War, I, Sho-Sho Oka Kuri, offer these terms of surrender. We relinquish all our ground-based assets and the downed _Overlord_ , but keep the second dropship, the Akemi Ayame, which is "Bright Iris" in English. We will use that ship to transport dead and wounded, along with all our ground personnel and any needed provisions for a return to Combine space. The mechs, and any spare components and ammunition still inside the Akemi Ayame, are yours to distribute as you see fit, Hauptmann-Colonel."

Lapointe nodded. Romero looked like he wanted to say something but kept quiet for now. Lapointe checked his watch and began. "You have twelve hours to relinquish what you have offered and be out of Suk II's orbit before we will fire on you again. Any attempts to do otherwise will be met with the same force you have seen today." He gestured at the ground. "You can unload and leave everything here. We'll handle local transport. We will board the Akemi Ayame for inspection that everything relevant has been removed in ten hours.

Dusselhoff piped up. "And that gun-cam virus still swimming around in all our equipment. We want it gone within two hours. Every unit you hit, including the militia." He stabbed a finger at the ground. "We want it gone, and we want proof of it being gone, or we open up on your men whether they're in a mech by then or not, and nobody goes home."

She smiled, but a crack in her chapped lips ended that fairly quickly. She turned to Kuri. Everyone else had already been introduced, so she got right to the one question that was burning inside her, the Coyotes, and everyone else that had just fought him today. "Sho-Sho, just one question. We know you were doing this for personal glory, but also for strategic and industrial value for the combine, so that question's rhetorical."

She tilted her head at him, and put her hands on her hips, leaning in angrily. "Were you and Alvarez from the Ministry of Safekeeping in cahoots this whole time? Was you two responsible for the gun-cam virus and the attacks on our water treatment plants?"

Kuri waited for a moment, then bowed his head with his eyes closed. "Yes," he said. His eyes remained shut. "Orsula Alvarez and I had been working out this campaign for about two years, now. The water treatment plants weren't my idea, but they served my purpose of keeping Suk II's defending forces spread out long enough to attack. _However,_ " he said curtly, "the commando operations seemed to be answering to her, or someone else on-planet, moreso than me. My explicit orders to them before they arrived in January were to avoid civilian casualties."

Kuri's hands balled into fists. "It would seem the Minister of Safekeeping was more interested in creating disorder through mass casualties and swaying public opinion towards the Combine so she could remain in a position of power when we took over. Things did not go according to plan. In the end, the guerilla forces we sent to help ensure our victory eventually became our demise. If they hadn't rallied behind us, we would have smashed through the Roughriders while you were still unable to shoot properly, and then turned on your supporting forces.

He shook his head. "The timing was tighter than I'd have liked, but that was mainly due to the Coyotes in Paphos forcing us to take an even longer route, and being unable to land directly in the capitol due to the Roughrider's positioning. In the end, my own greed, and Alvarez's heavy-handed tactics were our undoing. Either you will detain me, or I will return to Rassalhague to commit seppuku in front of my Warlord."

Orlianne held out his data pad. "Current civilian casualties since this conflict began are over six-thousand, most of which coming from the treatment plant explosions." He put it away. "Don't worry, commanders. Alvarez has already been detained in her own private little cell. Suk II has their own brand of justice, and she'll probably swing from a ferro-lasso before the end of the week, now that we have confirmation. Thank you for that, Sho-Sho." Kuri simply nodded slightly.

"However," Orlianne continued, holding up a hand, while nodding back at the hover car. "However, due to your actions contributing to the deaths of thousands by your own admittance, the government of Suk II is placing you, Oka Kuri, under arrest for violations of the Ares Conventions of War you so mentioned a moment ago. Your war trial will be pending." Two large men with almost-as-large automatic pistols left the hovercar and jogged towards the group. "These two men will take you into custody. If anyone else has anything they want to say to the Sho-Sho, now would be the time."

Kuri nodded and looked to his XO, exchanging a few things in Japanese Emily didn't understand. _Probably making sure he sticks to the terms of the surrender, or at least he'd better be._ His XO shook his hand and turned to walk back towards where the 2nd Legion were gathered to pass the word. Not far from each other, the Akemi Ayame stood like a memorial to its fallen partner.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen. I have city riots and looting I need to finish stomping out. Well done today, Roughriders. Renegades. Coyotes." Orlianne shot a wink at Emily. "The 3rd Cav sends their regards, Major." He finally grinned at her and walked back to his hover car, behind the two burly men and Kuri, now in cuffs.

Following that, salvaging operations were extensive, and the Coyotes offered to help out for a small percentage. Wounded were tended to. Friends and comrades were buried. Liquor and beer of every flavor and alcohol percentage was drank. C-bills were exchanged, and the Coyotes' private accounts received another nineteen million of them.

Long, laborious hours later, and after all the mechs and personell from the downed _Overlord_ were pulled out, along with survivors, the Akemi Ayame lifted off to parts unknown. Emily didn't care whether it went or stayed. _They were just doing their jobs. It's the people at the top that deserve judgement._ A large audience gathered outside the danger zone of the dropship's engines to send much more heartfelt goodbyes in the form of various gestures. Some involved middle fingers, some involved butts or genitalia.

The kind of farewell expected from planet on the border of two superpowers in the Inner Sphere that hated each other.


	40. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

May 25th

Parliament Hall

Mach 'Beh

Suk II

The door opened on Alvarez' office and she walked in, wearing her more classic ceremonial toga. Her rubellite earrings were still where she left them, though the rest of the place had been opened, moved, lifted, and all other forms of "inspected," leaving the entire place a scattered mess. All her records, electronic and otherwise, had been taken days ago after the allegations hit.

 _And I was conveniently locked away in a bunker a long place from here, making anyone's apprehension about raiding my office that much easier,_ she thought sourly.

Her hands were shackled in front of her, though the more modest toga didn't allow for the presence she normally preferred. The guards on either side wore face masks that covered their eyes, making it more or less impossible to tell what affect she was having on them, if any.

On the satin room-sized rug, which was sitting in a bed of plastic designed to submerge something that big in liquid, was Oka Kuri, also shackled and on his knees.

The _entire_ length of every wall and corner were guards with heavy assault rifles, shoulder-to-shoulder. They closed the door behind Alvarez and completed the wall of muscle, armor, and heavy weaponry behind her.

"Kuri."

"Your lust for power was far too great, Alvarez. But I have come to ask you this one thing, which you already know."

"You want _me_ to restore _your_ honor? You've hardly lost yours. I've taken most of the blame for The Langley Affair and beyond, despite it being _our_ idea.

"See, that's where you're wrong." He stood tiredly, and lifted a plush armchair for a more comfortable seat. His voice was graveled, but he had cleaned himself up.

He sighed comfortably in the chair, then continued. His English was firm. "Keeping the RoughRiders stretched thin, busy for months, was my idea. Never, _ever_ was I open to the idea of trading civilian lives. I've occupied planets before. There was no need for what you did." His voice was calm, and he was quiet.

 _There was probably at least a dozen other zingers he could have used at the end there, but chose not to. He doesn't want me angry at him. Because he wants a favor. The best favor I could possibly give him at this point._

She flushed, but fired back calmy. "True. There's a special little hell waiting for me on the other side of that myomer rope out there." She raised her shackled hands to point out the window, where thousands of her people awaited her public hanging.

The last place she'd ever be headed to. The last great public spectacle she craved.

"So why should I care about you and your little ritual at this point? My life is measurable in minutes."

Kuri smiled at her, like the way an old friend would smile. "You are the only person even close to a friend, colleague, or business partner on this planet. I simply ask one thing." He stood again and kneeled on the carpet.

In front were the two swords for his seppuku. He picked up the smaller tanto in one hand while undoing the buttons with the other, careful not to cut himself early and dishonor himself.

He gestured towards the larger sword, smiling.

Alvarez slowly picked it up, and stabbed him in the chest. The blade went clean through. To the hilt.

His face was as white as her smile. "Not the way you wanted to go, but nobody really gets what they want anymore, do they?" Her face, her arms, and her toga were splattered with his blood. Her hands were drenched with it.

Seconds later, Kuri slumped lifelessly, his larger wakizashi propping him on his knees. The guards said nothing. The camera kept rolling.

She left the sword there and walked to the door, blocked by the guard-wall. "I'm done here. No point in changing clothes anyway, so let's go get this over with, shall we?" The blood began to drip beneath her on the bare wooden floor. The guards parted, opened the door for her, allowed her to lead the way to her execution as her toga tried to pick up the blood on her hands.

Tried, and failed. There was simply too much.


	41. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

May 28, 3025

Firebase Yankee

Alshayra Continent

Suk II

Emily met with Martin in a 'mech bay a few days later. "I think I'm going back home to Hesperus II," he said, leaning on mostly-restored _Wolverine._ Dad's getting older and since he's broke I'd like to go do something a little less violent. I'll be able to take care of him just fine with the money we made here."

She pouted, but after almost six years of close contact around him, he knew he was being distant as of late. "Well…we weren't _not_ expecting you to go, but we really want you to stay all the same. What're you gonna do with the _Wolvie?_ "

He grinned. "Wanna buy it? It'll pay off most of a nearby nudist covenant, not too far from dad's old shop."

"I don't think you can _buy_ a nudist…covenant? Aren't they called colonies? Or communities or whatever?" She blinked in confusion.

"They changed it a long time ago when the shipment to a nudist colony on Tharkad got mislabeled and sent to a nearby jungle moon. To an actual temporary colony called Nude. I mean who goes nude on Tharkad, anyway? It's butt-ass cold most of the time."

"I dunno. Hairy people? Come to think of it, I've never seen a hair on anything but your head." She leaned against the other side of the _Wolvie's_ leg, scanning him appreciatively in jest.

"Yeah. Runs in the family, I guess. Life on the part of Hesperus where I live is generally sweaty, no matter what you're doing."

"Your tongue seems to be doing better."

"Glad that's all I bit into. Still hurts like hell though. Could you imagine me at the surrender talks if I was your XO? These are the reasons I have to go home." He showed the mark a few centimeters from the tip of his tongue with a half-smile.

"Who would you recommend to take your lance? We have two commander spots open." She tilted her head thoughtfully at him, accidentally tapping it against the 'mech's armor and sending a jolt of pain through her skull which she masked gracefully.

"Ifrit's a negative, though Nymph was doing really well helping you out. Hell, we got her _Mongoose_ back up and running and it's got good C&C equipment in there. Kind of a no-brainer."

"How about one of the _Fire Jav_ brothers?" That moniker had stuck with Romeo, Tarzan, and Mowgli since their inception. Between the New Syria and Paphos contracts, they had a trio of jumping _Fire Jav's_ tattooed on their backs like some kind of a biker logo.

"Not really. They said they were headed back to their homes on Hesperus soon enough, anyway. Political grown-up stuff to do, soon. Though Nymph would be a good mother hen to the three of them, and then you'd have two lil' birdies in your flock!"

"I'd have to include a few lessons in Russian diction with whoever we'd put with her, though." And then she realized his pun. "I hate you. I'm gonna hate missing you more, though."

He came in close for a big friendly hug, some slaps on the back. Looking up at the head of the _Wolvie,_ he said, "So you wanna buy her?"

"Yeeaaaahh you know we're gonna need it. I'll leave a clause in the contract, just in case you change your mind and come back."

"Awwwwww…" Another hug, then more leaning on the 'mech. "So where you two headed after this?"

She shook her head. "Just waiting for more contracts to come down the line. Pearl ought to be back any minute with some. Things have dried up here, and the RoughRiders are starting to replace their ranks. We have a standing offer for the next six weeks if we want to join up with them, but we've already bought-in to do our own deployment elsewhere. Who knows. We might end up on garrison duty on Hesperus if we keep getting bigger 'mechs.

"You happy to be done with that _Cat?_ "

"Was always a dog person myself. Like say…A _Wolverine_?" She raised an eyebrow, reaching up to pat the 'mech's shin.

"Hey _hey!_ Nice to know it's going to the right person. You were more at home in a humanoid anyway."

"Damn right. I ruined three launcher tubes banging that _Cat_ around in Paphos." She blew a stray lock of brown hair out of the way in mock disgust, glad it wasn't matted to her head right now. _Time for a haircut anyway._

"By the way, did Romero say where they were goin'? Oh hey, Pearl." She had snuck up behind Emily, poking her in the sides. They kissed. _Everyone knows by now and we just got out alive despite it, so who cares._

Emily's companion and XO answered that one for him. "Just got back from some contract scouting. He said he's headed to Dustball to do some cleanup work for Malthus Casinos."

Emily grimaced. "No thanks. Way out of our wheelhouse, and not the people I'd wanna work for. We'll stick with the sneaky stuff. I still can't believe didn't lose anybody in a fight in the open in broad daylight."

"Then how abouuuuut some pirate hunting near Canopus space?"

She paused. "Anything for the space vixens." Emily's eyes practically glazed over, staring off in a trance.

"Ahem. Spoken for?" Pearl gave her a halfhearted slap.

"I'm still missing part of my tongue. It's like part of my soul I can't get back." He showed his grievous battle wound to Pearl again.

"Gross." She pushed it back in with a finger.

"He's selling us the _Wolvie."_ And a short recap brought Pearl up to speed, and more hugs and slaps were exchanged. "Oh, the flasks came in." She waved at the box on the ground behind her. Custom-made hip flasks with over the Coyote logo on the cap, and thirty tiny nameplates on each of them.

They all had three of the nameplates each engraved with a callsign, retired from Coyote ranks.

"Maiden," "Chrome," and "Captain J.J." The six techs lost at Langley had their last names engraved on their own nameplate as well. Heidel, Sakura, Smith, De'picco, Montgomery, and Brown.

She had filled them all with some local whiskey and passed them out to any Coyote she could find in the 'mech bay. The first official shots in their honor would be drank in a 'mech bay of Firebase Yankee on the planet of their first contract.

During downtime, anyone saying any of those callsigns or names asked required to take a shot in their honor. Later, during exceptionally boring downtimes, this would be amended to include anything sounding even marginally close to them.

Emily hoped the two of them would retire long before they ever filled up the nameplates, or ended up on a couple themselves, but for now she also knew that was the life. The mercenary life. The Coyote life.


End file.
